And That Was How the Fight Began
by Glittery-excuse-for-a Fae
Summary: What the title suggests, a lot of instances, linked or not some happy and cracky some angsty but all of them are if you like a prelude to a fight of some sort non slash at the moment, that could change, as could the  rating.  Enjoy!
1. Letters and Laundry

**Authors Notes:**

**Yes I know I have soo many other stories I do and I am terrible for not working on those or indeed anything for soo long, but for this I blame OperaGoose she gave me Delusion****!Sherlock and then the fun began so this story is dedicated to her because she owns my soul thanks to her awesome fic-ness and how awesome she is at writing Sherlock and John, I hope I can write them somewhere that readers will think is passable.**

**Disclaimer:**

**I own nothing here not making any Profit, sue me at your peril because I am just a poor pot washer, nothing more however all likeness' to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter one, Letters and Laundry.

Sherlock had arrived at the house of the Clarkson's (and no not Jeremy dear readers) he was investigating their daughters apparent suicide, His sounding board, a one John Watson, formerly in the Army as a doctor and now continuing to pursue his career in medicine was doing exactly that, working in the surgery.

He could have done with John's help here as this case was proving to be a little elusive.

But Sherlock had reasoned that if he could maybe gain access to the House and see where the girl spent the majority of her time some things would click and he would have the case finished by evening.

At the moment however he was in the kitchen of their house, it was a normal suburban house, and had what any normal suburban hose had in their kitchen, a cooker, a sink worktops looking like marble but if one peeled the plastic off one would find a cheap wood was the real worktop.

What Sherlock had not expected to find was a pile of washing sitting on the floor by the washing machine.

"How odd" Sherlock said and then he remembered that he was alone. After a quick glance around the kitchen and the living room (which adjoined the kitchen) he began to sort through the washing.

T-Shirts that were of no interest were discarded from the pile and thrown around the room haphazardly a few landing gracefully on the backs of the kitchen chairs behind him while a lucky T-Shirt made its way to the top of the fridge freezer, others however weren't so lucky, and made their way into the dog's water bowl where their owners would later in the day chastise their beloved pet for its behaviour.

Trousers and Jeans were next; Sherlock spent a little time going through the pockets of these items of clothing, tutting when he fond rubbish and crowing when he found business cards and notes from the pockets of a young girl which told of a certain boy and how she adored him.

He also took in the make of he trousers and jeans, you could always tell how financially well of a family were by looking at their clothes, trousers and shoes especially.

There was one make that he didn't recognise so he sent a text to John.

_**John, what is Fat Face? SH.**_

The reply was immediate.

_**Get lost will you, don't text me while I'm at work why do you need to know about a clothing mark anyway? J**_

Sherlock grinned for all Johns reluctance to help he had given him the most helpful answer, His waffling about being at work however was unneeded, still he could train him to give precise answers, there was still plenty of time.

_**Case. SH.**_

John Watson read the one word reply to his previous text and cursed under his breath.

_**Please tell me you are not at the Clarkson's Sherlock! J **_ He text back rapidly

_**Very well I won't. **_ Was the reply.

John stood from his chair and left his office, passing down the hall to Sarah's room.

He knocked once and her voice issued from inside.

"Come in"

"Sarah Hi, I… Ummm well the funny thing is..."

"Is it Sherlock?" she asked in a tired voice

John nodded knowing that he must look like a naughty schoolboy in front of the headmistress.

"I'm sorry but he's in the house of a murder victim, and you know how he is, I'm sorry I know we're really busy and I wouldn't ask…"

"Go on, we won't like there to be a double murder on our hands would we?" she asked him.

He knew it was rhetorical, but gave her a quick peck on the cheek yelling a "Thanks Sarah" as he ran back down the hall to collect his coat.

Sherlock meanwhile had got bored with the clothes now; he had gleaned all he could from them. He put them in the washing machine put some soap powder in and turned it on.

The clothes began to spin and he watched with fascination, and John said he couldn't do domestic chores; he would tell him about this and watch his reaction.

No he wouldn't, John had asked him to not tell him where he was so he wouldn't be able to tell the good doctor.

Maybe once the case was over it would be permissible to tell John that he had done the Clarkson's washing.

The thwack of the letterbox alerted him to the fact that the post had arrived, he hurried to the front door and sat on his haunches rifling through the post.

And that as John would later tell Lestrade was how the fight began.

Sean Clarkson had always woken to the sound of the postman pushing letters through the door of his bungalow, he was a creature of habit, he would wake his daughter Michelle on the way to the front door, she would moan about getting up for school and he would collect the post give it a glance over and put the kettle on.

As the kettle was boiling he would toss the bills to one side, any envelope that looked like an advert would go into the recycling and anything else would be put on the coffee table to be opened after work.

Today however he knew that there was no daughter to wake, no sweet teenage voice complaining about getting ready for school and no-one moaning about how unfair it was that they were yet again grounded.

Still he did his morning routine, he opened her door and looked round, and everything was the same as she had left it two days ago, even the cold cup of tea sat on her bedside table where she had left it.

He knew he should move it, it wasn't sanitary but her room needed to look like it was hers, it needed to remain as it was, things would get moved and packed away, in time.

He padded to the front door and saw a lanky man in a long coat and a curly mop of black hair sitting on his haunches going through the post.

Sean Clarkson prided himself on being a calm individual, today however was just not turning out to be a calm sort of day.

John arrived at the Clarkson's to hear shouting, which did not bode well for Sherlock, Sighing he rung the doorbell.

"Good morning Mr Clarkson, I am from St Bartholomew's I understand that one of our more special patients has been hiding himself here, may I come in?"

"Who the hell are you, weren't you here the other day with the Police?"

"No Sir I don't believe I was, I work in the Psychiatric unit at St Barts, Sherlock is a rather puzzling case, can you believe he thinks he is a consulting detective and that he helps the police." John shook his head sadly.

"You still haven't told me who you are."

"I do apologise my name is Doctor John Watson, may I come in and see my patient please."

Sean ushered him in, Sherlock was sitting on the sofa with a split lip and a sulk on.

"Ah there you are Sherlock." John said as if talking to a particularly slow child "did you deicide that you were better again we've talked about this you know."

Sherlock scowled at John.

"Now what have you been up to then?" John asked.

"He punched me John!"

"Mr Clarkson Sherlock is very mentally unstable do you mind if I have a few moments alone with him?"

Sean looked like he wanted to say no but sighed and nodded, going to the kitchen and shutting the door.

John turned to Sherlock

"What the hell are you playing at Sherlock?" he bellowed

"John, Clarkson will here and we do soo want to continue this ruse of patient and doctor don't we?" Sherlock replied in hushed tones.

John sighed, why did Sherlock have to be soo exasperating when he was right.

"Right so what were you doing?" he asked in a quieter tone.

"I was merely going over some evidence, some new evidence."

"Sherlock you can't just walk into someone's house you know, you have to wait until you're invited."

"Well that's not exactly going to happen now is it John?"

"Well of course not the man is grieving and he finds some stranger in his house going through his stuff what would you think…" John shook his head "No never mind, don't answer that, just come on lets get out of here, you can review the evidence back at home" He said grabbing Sherlock's arm and hoisting him off the sofa.

"Right thanks for that Mr Clarkson, Sherlock has explained himself, apparently he saw the death of your daughter in the paper and decided to investigate, I'm terribly sorry for your loss. We'll be going now; once again I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience this has caused you."

As they walked out of the bungalow he heard the angry tones of Sean Clarkson

"What the bloody hell has he done to my washing machine?"

John and Sherlock looked at each other, Sherlock just shrugged.

"Do I want to know?" John asked wearily, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he followed Sherlock.

"No John I really don't think you do."

The two walked out of the road and towards the bus stop both laughing.

**A/N: **** and there you have it dear reader, if there is anything you would like Sherlock to do, in regards to crime scenes and so on let me know via Pm or review I already have a few to work with but I await your pms and reviews.**

**If you have enjoyed this then do please try and review anon or non anon whichever floats your boat its what I love, seeing that people enjoy what I write, so whatever your review its all fine!**

**Thanks a lot :D **


	2. Cleaning and the effects of Caffeine

**Authors Notes:**

***blinks owlishly at all her reviews* wow guys! Ok so Initially I thought I'd get one review for this, but you lot wouldn't just let me fade into the mists of inadequacy would you? Oh no! And for that I thank you!**

**Here is chapter two so I hope you enjoy it as much as chapter one *looks hopeful***

**Thanks and Shout outs:**

**VerityBurns:**** I'm really glad you are enjoying this and thanks for all your support over the past hours you've helped me find my feet back in fan fiction and made me feel really welcome in the Sherlock Comm. so huggles to you!**

**OperaGoose:**** My darling who professed her love for me in a review (you sordid sordid person! You know why! ) I think you many times over for Delusion!Sherlock although He's looking a in a shifty way at my suitcase… is that normal?**

**Seriously though this wouldn't be anything remotely interesting without you :D**

**Lackadaisicallyours: ****Bless you I feel honored that you like this soo much *blushes* But dear I would feel saddened if you how did you put it, oh yes **_**'dashed yourself against the rock'**_** if I were to disappoint you, after all if you did that you would most certainly be dead or in hospital and then how would you know if other chapters were less disappointing?**

**All of you who have reviewed are awesome! I will give you My Shimeji Sherlock if you keep this up! (He's adorable dancing on my screen now and looking over to John…. Oh) *Censored***

**Disclaimer:**

**None of the products in this chapter are owned by me they are owned by their respective trademark owners so don't sue! Thank you and goodnight**

**On with the story!**

Chapter two: Cleaning and the effects of Caffeine.

After the Clarkson case John and Sherlock had gone back home.

"You'll have to pay for breaking his Washing machine you know"

Sherlock unfolded himself from his curled up position and stretched his legs out, naked toes pushing against the arm of the sofa.

"I don't see why I should." He said

"Because you broke it Sherlock" John said putting a cup on the coffee table in front of the sofa before crumpling in his chair wrapping his fingers around his own cup.

"I didn't do it intentionally you know."

"Well what exactly did you do to it?" John asked sipping his drink.

"Well, No I won't tell you. You asked me not to tell you where I was so why should I tell you what I did to his washing equipment."

It was at times like this that John wondered which of the various gods out there wanted to punish him, had he done something particularly bad before he met Sherlock. He didn't think so, he was an army Doctor, he had done his job well, damned well in his opinion, and had got shot in the shoulder and sent back to England with a pension which lets face it left a lot to be desired, and now here he was sharing a flat with a petulant thirty something self professed sociopath.

Somebody upstairs hated him, of that he was sure.

"Sherlock stop pouting for goodness sake; just tell me what you did"

"You're angry and a little fed up tell me why?" Sherlock countered

"It doesn't matter" John replied, he knew that if he spoke his thoughts out loud then Sherlock would be hurt.

"I only wanted to help John, there was a pile of washing on the floor, and once I had gathered all my evidence from it, it was cluttering the room up, and you know how I can't cope with clutter…"

John looked around the living room of their flat, every available floor space that didn't need to be free for walking to another point in the flat was distinctly not free, instead the floor had been taken up with files, or books or other pieces of rubbish that John was sure were pivotal to cases that they had been working on.

"Right ok I can understand that." John said rubbing a hand over his face in an effort to stay calm.

"So I washed them."

"You did what?" John asked it was becoming a real struggle to keep his calm

"It's quite simple really John, you just put the clothes in, put the soap powder in the little drawer, whirl the dials a bit and press start."

John made a strangled sound and decided it was better to put his cup out of reach, just in case.

"How much soap powder did you put in?" he asked when he had placed his cup on top of the desk.

Oh I counted to ten; well there weren't any measures on the back of the packet or instructions on the Washing equipment.

John thumped his head back on his chair "and what color was the washing and how much was there?"

Sherlock looked at him "you're looking quite pale John, do you need to lie down in a darkened room for a while?"

That sounded like the best plan that Sherlock had ever had, John could add to it though, a darkened room with a lock on the inside of the door, His laptop, an endless supply of food and rink that hadn't been contaminated by body parts and a comfy chair would all be wonderful additions to Sherlock's comment.

"No Sherlock I'm fine." John heard himself say "just tell me what this pile of clothes looked like and how much there was?"

"Well once I had conducted my investigation the pile of clothes was considerably smaller, so I just put it all in."

"Of course you did yes, whatever was I thinking" said John somewhat hysterically.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked now biting on a nail, he looked slightly worried.

"Really not good Sherlock, why was the pile smaller?"

Sherlock mumbled something inaudible into his cup and then his head suddenly shot up "John this is coffee."

"Yes well done."

"Why did you bring me coffee you know I don't drink any stimulants"

"Tea's a stimulant and we're out of it by the way, which is why you got coffee."

"Would you be an absolute wonder and go and get some tea John?" Sherlock asked.

"No." was Johns answer.

"Why not?"

"I don't see why I should; you're perfectly able to go down to the shops yourself you know"

Sherlock mumbled something about a dog and barking himself. To which John shot out of his chair, and said in a very calm voice "fine I'll go, but do you know where my gloves are?"

Sherlock took a look round the living room and steepled his hands under his chin.

"Well John…" he began.

"Yes Sherlock, I'm waiting."

"You didn't have them at the Clarkson case did you?"

"No"

"Did you have them when you set out for work this morning?"

"No because I couldn't find them" John growled out

"Ah I see."

"You do, how nice for you, care to share?"

"I... well John I don't really know where your gloves are."

"Right ok, well I will go out into the cold November afternoon minus my gloves and hope to goodness I don't get frostbite so that I can get some tea for you."

"Some Milk wouldn't go amiss either."

"Right, Ok, Fine!" John said before grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and heading to the door.

"While I'm out you can make a start with clearing this place up, I can't see the floor in some places, and you know what you might be able to find my gloves."

Sherlock looked at John as if the doctor had asked him to commit a particularly gruesome murder.

"Clean?"

"Yes Sherlock, Clean" John said and before Sherlock could say another word John had left the flat.

Sherlock looked at the contents of his cup, it smelled revolting, but it was warm so without thinking he downed the liquid and put the mug in the sink.

He began to feel a small sort of buzz from the Coffee, and wondered if John had drunk his beverage, maybe he should go and see, after all waste not want not.

John had not drunk his coffee. Sherlock grinned and downed the drink, placing John's mug in the sink.

He looked around the flat, what could he clear up? Everything was in a place that was easy to remember, for him at least, He didn't know why John had to make such a fuss about the way the flat looked, it was a lot tidier than some of these places he had seen on 'How Clean is Your House.'

He decided that he would start in the kitchen; it seemed by far the cleanest part of the house to start in.

John was a patient man, which he supposed was how he had managed to live with Sherlock Holmes so long.

He was a kind man also, which was also why he would sometimes leave the flat when Sherlock was being petulant. After all when Sherlock was in one of his moods you couldn't make him see sense and then you ended up getting yourself uptight and saying things you regretted.

He was at a nearby Tesco metro, after his previous encounters with the automatic tills he decided he would get one that had a human cashier.

He got the milk and tea and a few other bits and bobs that he thought they may need, ham, cheese more bread, thinking of bread he would need to buy more butter, their was something that looked suspiciously like a human fingernail just beginning to poke out of the top of the Kerry-gold butter that was sat on a plate in the third shelf from the bottom.

He picked up a tub of flora and placed it in the basket.

He looked longingly at the cans of beer as he neared the alcohol isle. But passed by and instead went onto the cleaning items.

He brought two bottles of cillit bang, because he really did seem to use a silly amount on an almost daily basis.

He went back to the alcohol isle and decided to buy himself a six pack of Tetley's, he didn't drink often, but sometimes it was nice to have a beer or two when he was watching the rugby or football.

He went to the till and paid for his purchases, before beginning the short walk home.

It was drizzling as he left the shop, that misty drizzle that seems to permeate clothes, His leg was beginning to ache and he knew now that it was psychosomatic, but he told himself that it was because of the cold weather, not his brain.

He wondered if Sherlock had indeed begun the floor clearing process or whether he was just slumped on the sofa looking up at the ceiling.

He shook his head of course he wasn't going to be cleaning up, no Sherlock, clean anything that he didn't need, Pfft, what had he been thinking?

John was not a man easily shocked, He had been in a war for heavens sake, but the sound of a quiet flat shocked him.

His flat mate Sherlock could usually be heard as John stomped up the stairs, whether it was pacing the floor, clunking test tubes together or even shooting the wall (which John ad been trying to Dissuade him from, an unhappy landlady meant that they would have to pay for broken appliances.)

But now there was nothing.

John took a tentative step into the living room of the flat, the piles of junk (because really there was no other word for it) that had been strewn haphazardly on the floor were now in even more piles only this time they were stacked.

Sherlock himself was seated on the sofa, fingers in a jar of what looked to be Kenco coffee, a light bulb in his right hand.

His left hand was removed from the jar of instant coffee and John watched intently as Sherlock licked the coffee granules off his digits before returning his gaze to the light bulb.

John was just about to ask why a light bulb was so fascinating when Sherlock stuck out his tongue and licked the glass of the bulb.

John found his voice at last "No! Sherlock, why are you licking a light bulb?"

"You told me to have a tidy up I am merely following your instructions."

"And uhh what part of my instructions mentioned licking a light bulb, hmm?"

"It was dirty, I tried bleach, but that didn't work…"

Before John could say or do anything Sherlock had licked the light bulb again, looking up at John through his lashes as he did so.

"Damn" John muttered. He grabbed the light bulb from Sherlock who looked at him as if he had just had his favorite toy taken away.

"Sherlock… Is that coffee beans you're eating?"

"Coffee Grounds actually." Sherlock replied.

"Right lets just… put this back into the kitchen, you do know your meant to make cups of coffee with it, not eat it raw."

"Of course, but I was out of nicotine patches" Sherlock replied watching John put the jar of coffee and the light bulb in the kitchen.

"In future" John replied when he returned "don't put a light bulb in bleach and then lick it; it's not the best course of action."

"It was dirty"

"Yes Sherlock I realize that but you don't lick it after its been covered in bleach, it does get dirty but that when the inside of the glass burns, not the outside."

"Oh, I wondered why it wasn't getting any cleaner."

"How much of that coffee did you have?"

"Well I drunk my cup and yours and the jar was quite full when you left."

John covered his eyes with a hand "great, a caffeine high just what I need, Ok look why don't you go and expend some energy somewhere"

Sherlock shrugged and his knee began to jiggle.

"Did you lick anything else?"

Sherlock looked at John again. "You're damp" he said moving forward tongue out.

NO! Sherlock you do not ever lick your flatmate! Ever." John emphasized his last word hoping the consulting detective would get the point.

Unfortunately today was not John's lucky day and he backed away as Sherlock advanced on him tongue out

And that, Sherlock would later tell his brother, was how the fight started.

**A/N: **** and there you have it! Another chapter, the next one may be a little angsty, so I apologize in advance, you may even get it before I go back to London on the 11****th**** or else you will have to wait two weeks till I come back on the 24****th****, Much praise to OperaGoose for her wonderful science-y bits in this chapter! And your right Stalking = Love!**


	3. Of Death and Ignorance

**Authors Notes:**

**To all my lovely reviewers of chapter two I salute you! I do, I'd write you all down but alas I'd have more comments for reviewers than I would fiction, so you, all of you, who sit or stand or lounge or even balance on your head while you read my little chapters thank you, you are all awesome and I owe you a great debt.**

**This chapter however is not of the same standard as my other chapters, insomuch as it is not cracky, no, and it's the long awaited angst chapter**

**Little Pippin, I am doing my best to live up to expectations I hope I manage it.**

**This Chapter was really hard to write and a lot of it is from my own personal experience so I hope I stay true to both the characters and situation they find themselves in.**

**Disclaimer:**

**I own nothing; the BBC however owns my soul that is all**

***Bows and leaves the stage***

Chapter three: of Death and Ignorance:

John Watson was a clever man, not as clever as his friend Sherlock Holmes, but clever enough, He was a trained doctor and as such when he got a call from the hospital one chilly morning in January he knew it could not be good news.

After the call he paced aimlessly round the living room of the flat and even put the kettle on, but forgot about that fact, and once again returned to pacing.

"Who was on the phone John?" Sherlock asked.

"The hospital." John replied absently.

"Is everything ok?"

"Yes everything is fine Sherlock; would you uhh would you like some tea? I can put the kettle on if you'd like"

"Are you sure your alright you're looking pale, your not coming down with anything nasty are you? If you are then maybe you should go back to sleep for a while"

"I'm fine Sherlock, stop fussing will you" he replied, voice rising slightly.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. "Tea? Yes no?"

"Yes, thank you"

Sherlock knew something was the matter, but he was not going to pry, deducing things about a person just by looking at them was fine, but this was John, his friend, and whatever was bothering him wasn't obvious from looking at him and watching his movements and mannerisms, he could of course ring the hospital and find out that way, but he knew that would upset John further.

If he had never met John, if he was just living with some random stranger he would have had no qualms about ringing the hospital and finding out the information he needed, but no, John was different, He trusted Sherlock and Sherlock thought that to ring the hospital would betray that trust.

John came back with the tea, placing it in front of where Sherlock lounged on the sofa.

Sherlock picked up the steaming mug and went to take a sip.

"John, are we out of milk again?" he asked.

"Not as far as I know why?"

"Then I think you forgot something in my tea."

"Sorry I just have… things on my mind, it would be nice if you'd make your own tea once in a while I'm not your damn housekeeper" John said pacing the floor, he sat down and then stood up again resuming his pacing.

"Is there somewhere you need to be John?" Sherlock asked.

"No, I mean should I be somewhere, do you not want me here?"

"John if there is somewhere you need to be urgently then you should most certainly go"

"I… I… I'll be back later today"

"Take as long as you need." Sherlock replied.

John was at the door and hastily putting on a jacket and scarf, but he turned to Sherlock and offered him a small, barely there smile.

John entered the Dialysis ward with a slow walk, the nurses had told him where he would find who he was looking for, it was something that the nurses had told him was bound to happen, they had told him this with sad little smiles and John had hated them for it.

It wasn't their fault he knew, they had not made this happen, but he hated them all the same.

Harry had never really liked flowers and booze was out of the question so he just hopped that one of his more cheery smiles would do.

He reached her bed and looked at his sister.

Inside his heart tore itself up.

"Hey there Jay Jay"

John prided himself on being strong, but hearing that childhood nickname from his sisters now gravely and wavering voice undid him, he sat heavily in the cheap plastic chair by her bedside and grabbed her hand, unable to conjure that cheery smile, or any words of comfort.

"It's not all that bad you know Jay." she said with a small smile, she squeezed his hand.

He looked up at the ceiling trying his best to compose himself, trying his best to offer some sort of topic of conversation that didn't involve alcohol or the cancer which his sister was now riddled with.

Strangely enough it was not because of the drink that Harriet Watson was in this particular ward, the one thing that John always believed would kill his sister had not.

He didn't know how to feel about that.

He just felt angry, unbelievably angry.

"Say something, come on you were never at a loss for words. I've read your blog you know, what's this flat mate of yours like?"

"Umm… he's well… God Harry, how can you want to talk about Sherlock bloody Holmes when you're…" he couldn't go on and instead looked at the ceiling again.

"When I'm on the metaphorical death row? Well I suppose there are better things that we could be talking about, like Sarah for instance"

"Don't, please Harry; don't make a joke out of everything… I can't sit here and listen to you making jokes about things, about how fabulous everything is, don't Lie"

"Oh John, I'm not lying, and I'm not making jokes, I presume they told you why I'm on all this medical rubbish."

"Yeah they did, why did you tell them not to resuscitate you, why did you do that?" he was looking at his sister now, eyes becoming cloudy due to the moisture in them.

"Listen to you, listen to how broken you sound John, I've caused that, your big sisters cock ups, your big sister who made herself a pariah within the family, who turned to drink and lost everything, I never realized what that was doing to you, this has been a real shock, being in here." She touched his face, and he noticed how frail that touch felt, when had his sister gotten so old.

"I don't understand"

"You were the normal one in the family, the quiet one, always in the background watching your sister on her one woman path to self destruction, and yet you never once hated me, you always stood by me, in-fact you were the only one out of the family that did, I don't want you to have to suffer John."

"If I do it's my choice to do it"

"John, you have been more forgiving than anyone I know, you didn't have to, you could have followed Mum and dad in their hatred of everything I stood for, but you didn't I'm your big sister, I should have been setting an example, instead I did my own thing, ballsed my life up and just didn't care about anyone, I want to make at least one right choice for you John, the choice of letting me go when its my time."

Harry sank back further into her pillows looking tired.

John's phone beeped.

"Is that from this mysterious flat mate?"

"Probably."

"Are you going to look at the text?"

"No." John replied gripping his sisters hand tighter, as if by doing that a miracle would happen and she'd suddenly be free of the cancer and they could both go home, live the rest of their lives happy and healthy, John knew though that happy endings like that were saved for films and books not the real life.

"Could be important." Harry said

"Probably." He replied

"You want to check, I can see your other had fidgeting on the arm of the chair."

"It's fine, he can wait for a change"

"You do know that with all the medication they've got me on I'll be asleep soon."

John shrugged, and stuck his bottom lip out in defiance.

"Oh John, Look if you have to go I promise that I'll get the nurses to call you the moment I'm a little more…" she struggled for the right thing to say "…Me?"

John smiled "what you mean knocking back the whiskeys again?"

Harry's voice broke into a grin too "yeah I was a bit disappointed that you didn't try and smuggle me anything in"

"Give over will you!"

"Relax John I'm off the booze, have been for a while"

John nodded once again remembering that it was not the booze that had done this to her.

He stood up Harry's hand in his and pressed a kiss to her forehead, her eyelids were drooping, her body succumbing to the different painkillers that were circulating around her system.

"I'll be back ok, once you're knocking back those whiskeys" he said offering her a small smile.

"Yeah" she replied voice slurring slightly with the onset of sleep "have one for yourself when you come back"

"I will" he replied voice cracking. He let go of his sister's hand and adjusted the blankets on her bed so that she was warm enough. He stayed until she was asleep.

On Johns return to Baker st and the flat he shared he found Sherlock sat on the sofa pulling the petals off of a flower.

"What do you want then?" John asked brusquely not even bothering to hang up his coat, he knew that at any moment he could be off out again, chasing after some criminal.

"Isn't it strange how fragile flowers are John?"

"Sorry?"

"Aesthetically beautiful but fragile, the slightest touch and they bruise, they wither, die even."

"You text me and told me to come home so that I could listen to you rabbit on about flowers?" John said. This was not on, god didn't Sherlock understand that he couldn't just make John drop everything and come running at the drop of a text message.

"No John if you had bothered to check your phone I was texting to update you on the fact that there were no new cases and your assistance would not be required for the rest of the day and well into the evening, I was telling you to not bother hurrying back here"

"Right, umm, yeah well… thanks for that" John let out a shaky sigh.

"Are you alright?"

"Mm yeah" he replied but Sherlock didn't believe it for a moment because he was shaking his head as he spoke.

"Well seeing as your back would you like to go for lunch?"

"No not really." John said, how could he eat when his sister was… he couldn't even bring himself to thin the word. "But life goes on doesn't it eh Sherlock"

Sherlock looked puzzled before standing and getting his coat.

"I'll get us a taxi alright?"

John nodded, he felt worn out, how could emotions make you feel like you had run a London marathon and gone three rounds with a top notch boxer.

He looked around the flat there were no photos of his anywhere, no sentimental keepsakes to show that he cared, and suddenly he found that wrong, there should be photos of him and Harry on the mantle, photos of trips to places that they had both always wanted to go, Photos of them just being siblings.

But there were none.

He didn't even have a photo of her on her wedding day. She had told him that he had always been there for her, always been forgiving, but look at him, he was no better than the rest of them, their so called family, there was not a scrap of evidence anywhere in the flat that proved Harry was his sister. He felt disgusted with himself.

"John, the Taxi's waiting, we don't want to run up a bill on the meter"

They ate Lunch at a little place down by the London eye, when John's meal came he couldn't have told anyone what he ordered in the first place, he kept avoiding Sherlock's piercing gaze as he ate, knowing that if that brilliantly clever man even glanced in his eyes for a moment the game would be up and all the pain and anguish that he was keeping locked up tight would be gone, he would loose the control he had fought so hard to establish, he had always been the normal one.

He needed to be the normal one for a while longer.

The meal passed in a haze of food, for John it was like walking in a dream things were happening in his life that he couldn't change, but how he wanted to. He longed to shout stop! He wanted to watch everything to just freeze so that he could just scream and yell and break things and cry without anybody being any the wiser. He craved it.

Such an unattainable craving.

The meal over, the two piled into a cab that would take them home.

"If you need to talk I'm willing to listen" Sherlock said.

"How very accommodating of you Sherlock" he snapped, before collapsing into his chair.

"What's the matter John?" Sherlock asked, he didn't like the way John was behaving, he was used to John bring slightly sarcastic, but not this outright venom that was apparent every time he looked or spoke to Sherlock.

He wanted John to be his usual self again. He didn't like this John; if he was to admit it this John scared him. This John was dangerous.

"Deduce it" John spat.

And suddenly it all became so very clear to Sherlock. Oh he had been an idiot. There was something wrong with Harry, something terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry John."

"Don't, she is fine, she'll be out soon, and then it'll be fine."

Sherlock nodded but said no more. He knew it was best to leave the subject, John was in that terrible stage of grief known as denial.

The next day dawned and John left the flat early, presumably to see Harry. When he came back some, four hours and twenty three minutes later he bounced up the stairs and into the flat with a spring in his step. Sherlock couldn't understand why.

"Would you like a cuppa?" John asked in his usual manner, all traces of the anger of yesterday gone.

"Please…" Sherlock thought of the best way to voice his worries. "You're looking happier today"

"Yeah" John replied getting the milk out of the fridge "the doctors say that Harry's making headway with the Chemo"

"Ahh" Sherlock replied.

"We've talked about going on holiday once she finishes Chemo"

"Anywhere nice?"

"Umm she always wanted to go to Morocco, I was thinking I could take two weeks off work and I mean you wouldn't miss me all that much, it would only be two weeks after all."

"Of course, two weeks holiday would do you good."

"I'm going in to work tomorrow" he said.

"Do you think that's wise?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, Harry's getting better, I need to save all my money for our holiday, if you're going out at all tomorrow can you go to a travel agent and get me some of those book things on Morocco? I'd go myself but by the time I finish work I'll be to late to get one. And I promised Harry"

"Of course I will"

John looked shocked. "Alright then, cheers" and saying that he sat down with his laptop and proceeded to write away, probably another entry for that blog of his.

Sherlock had left for a crime scene early that morning, or so John Watson supposed as far as he knew Sherlock could have gone to pick daisies in Hyde Park for all the notice he gave.

John was used to that, the consulting detective disappearing at random hours of the day.

Was used to eating alone, so he poured himself a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice and sat at the kitchen table, careful of the chemicals in test tubes.

That done, he readied himself for the day ahead and let the flat for work.

Sherlock entered the flat at a quarter to four; he had been at the crime scene longer than he had anticipated.

He had got a number of brochures about Morocco, as promised.

They all looked glossy and showy, but to him a holiday seemed boring.

Still if it would make John happy then it was worth it.

There was a light blinking on the answer machine, John had insisted that they get an answer machine not long after he moved in, saying 'that way normal people, friends of mine can get in contact.' He had agreed and now the light on the damn thing was blinking.

"It's no good blinking at me, I don't know what you're blinking for, you'll have to wait until John gets home."

The light said nothing, and to be honest Sherlock didn't expect it to. He settled down on the sofa and put the television on, waiting for John to come back so that he could had him the brochures on Morocco and watch as the Army doctor smiled at him for a job well done.

He must have been drifting between awake and asleep for a while because he didn't hear the door open, nor did he hear John pottering about in the kitchen, but he did notice a plate of instant pasta placed in front of him, along with a cup of tea.

"John!" he said sitting up a little too fast and making his head spin.

"You've not been eating properly have you; I'm guessing you last ate when we went out for that meal the day before yesterday and no, chocolate digestives don't count Sherlock!" John said, but it lacked its usual bite.

"I got you the brochures, there on the side table by the phone." Sherlock said around a mouthful of pasta.

"Thanks I'll take them down to the hospital in a moment" John replied, picking the brochures up. He noticed the light on the answering machine was blinking.

"Did someone call while I was at work?"

"They must have. I think it was while I was out" Sherlock said, gulping down his tea like a parched man dying of thirst. John shook his head at Sherlock, at the way he had to do everything at breakneck speed.

"Will you slow down, the tea's not going to sprout legs and walk off and down to Mrs Hudson complaining of being badly treated"

"Well of course not for one cups and hot water can't talk John"

John shook his head and chuckled, Sherlock found himself joining in, just because he could, just because John's mirth, his happiness was contagious.

"Let's see who's been calling then shall we" and saying that John pressed play on the recording device.

'_Doctor Watson, this is Nurse Heather Graham, we met briefly yesterday, I, I'm sorry Doctor Watson, John, but your sister slipped away this afternoon peacefully, it was her liver you see, anyway as you know her wish was that in the event of death she was not to be resuscitated, she's in the chapel of rest here at the hospital Doctor Watson, once again I am so very sorry."_

Sherlock could see the exact moment that the laughter died on John's face, he stood up quickly and caught his friend before he had a chance to crumple to the floor.

"John, John can you hear me? Your experiencing a traumatic event in your life, you're in Shock, just keep breathing and that way you won't pass out or hyperventilate."

John Batted Sherlock's hands away from where they rested on his shoulders.

"Get off will you I'm fine, I need to, Uhh I need to do things, I need to organise things, I need to see her, Christ!" he said pushing Sherlock away and reaching for his coat.

"I have to go, I have to go…"

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No Sherlock, No I don't you've ballsed this up enough as it is, you could have checked the messages when you came in, you could have called me… but no you couldn't be bothered!" Johns voice was bordering on hysterical "Why the hell do I bother Sherlock!" he asked. "Why the bloody hell do I bother cooking for you…" He picked up the half eaten plate of pasta and threw it across the room where the plate smashed and tomato sauce stained he wall, "Or making you tea." He poured the tea onto the carpet "When you cannot even do the simplest most basic things like check a bloody answering machine for me!"

Sherlock didn't like this, John was angry again, he didn't like angry John, angry John made him worried, it was like seeing the man John would have been if he had let the PTS take hold

"Jesus, I have to go and see Harry, I'll be back later, get this lot tidied up." saying that John walked out of the flat.

Sherlock left the flat an hour after John. He needed answers and the only person he could get them from, well the only person who wouldn't think he was more of a freak than normal, was Mycroft, he wouldn't willingly seek his brother out, but right now he needed someone who would understand not make snarky comments and silly acusations.

They met at nearby Regents Park; Sherlock didn't even need to explain the situation to his brother, something he was grateful for.

"I don't understand Mycroft, why was he so angry with me, he knows I don't know how to use the answering machine"

"I t had nothing to do with that Sherlock, John needed an outlet, he feels that the world as he knows it is unfair"

"I don't understand" Sherlock said sitting on a nearby bench.

"He's lost someone important in his life, someone he believed was on the way to recovering, that must be a terrible loss, and after all you said yourself they didn't get on. Imagine finding that one person that you never used to get on with but they are really very sick, you spend all your time with them, wanting to preserve the time you have left, you get told that person is getting better, your overjoyed, then twenty four hours later that person is dead.

Your left with an unbelievable void, all that time you thought you would have together with that person has suddenly cruelly been stripped away." Mycroft shook his head "Poor John Watson."

"What about me?" Sherlock asked

"What about You Sherlock, at the moment you don't factor into John's grand scheme of things. You are now not the most important person in his world right now"

"But…"

"No Sherlock, John needs support; he needs someone who will be thinking of him, someone who will keep an eye on him, just for now, someone who will care for him."

"I… I don't know how."

"You always were a quick learner." Mycroft said standing up and walking into the darkening evening. As he was swallowed up by the oncoming night he said

"I'll be watching Sherlock"

"You always are." He replied, but his brother chose not to hear him.

Returning to the flat he heard crying, John must be back then.

Sherlock walked up to John's room and knocked on the door.

"Go 'way" came the thick muffled answer.

"No, I'm coming in, I hope you're decent."

"S'never bothered you before" John replied.

Sherlock took a look at his flat mate, his friend John Watson, the man was curled up on his bed and there were damp patches on the pillow where his head had been

"Oh John…" Sherlock said sitting on the edge of his bed.

"I'm fine" John replied.

"No your not" Sherlock replied softly, "Your sister's just died, a sister you thought was getting better, it's not fine"

John looked at him "Who are you and what have you done to Sherlock Holmes"

Sherlock shook his head and his lips quirked up in a barely there smile.

"Shh, go back to grieving, I'm still me and you are you."

John shook his head.

"I know you don't want to hear it John but I am so sorry"

John offered him a watery smile that was more a grimace. "She shouldn't have died you know, she was, she was getting better Sherlock, she was getting better…" and another wave of sobbing rendered John unable to talk.

Sherlock pats his back as he cries, and John latches on to him, a sinking man's life raft.

For once this was not ho w the fight began, for once there was no fight, Just two friends trying to outlast the storm of grief.

Sherlock went with John to Harry's funeral, John hadn't asked him to but Sherlock knew he needed him there, He read a poem at the funeral, he didn't care much for poems and empty graveyards but he knew John wanted him there.

"What poem was that?" John asked as they say in a greasy spoon, both of them sipping diabolical mugs of tea.

"It was called Remember by Christina Rossetti, was it alright?"

John nodded and Sherlock saw the track lines on his face, where the tears had wandered.

"You should go on holiday you know it would do you good."

Sherlock's phone beeped. It was Lestrade.

"Yeah a holiday would be nice, but who'd keep an eye on you if I went away? That was Lestrade I bet, well you can wait until we've eaten."

"But John!"

"No Sherlock, food comes before murders."

"Will you be heading home after the food; I mean you probably should…"

"Your right I probably should, but Harry said to me when she was in hospital, she…" he was finding it hard to get the words out.

"…She said that what we do is soo important, she said so what if you don't get paid, you two are like hero's John, don't you ever stop doing it, because I see you enjoy working with that madman!" John said this with a small smile.

Sherlock grinned back "good I'm glad you enjoy this, now come on! We can eat after we visit the crime scene!"

John shook his head, Sherlock was soo alive, he wanted to do everything that minute, John couldn't fathom it, and maybe he was getting old.

He got pulled unceremoniously out of his chair by a musician's hand. "Come on John,"

_Remember me when I am gone away,_

_Gone far away into the silent land;_

_When you can no more hold me by the hand,_

_Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay._

_Remember me when no more day by day_

_You tell me of our future that you planned:_

_Only remember me; you understand_

_It will be late to counsel then or pray._

_Yet if you should forget me for a while_

_And afterwards remember, do not grieve._

_For if the darkness and corruption leave,_

_A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, _

_Better by far you should forget and smile,_

_Than that you should remember and be sad._

_Christina Rossetti._


	4. Of Skittles and Suitcases

**Authors Note:**

**Lots of people to thank for this Chapter going up, **

**Little Pippin: **** thanks for your wonderful concrit and will be hoping to pick a grammar book up on my holidays.**

**Verity Burns: **

**I understand what it is like when you have story alerts at the same time as you are writing, I do, and it's terrible. Never feel you have to apologise to me though.**

**OperaGoose: ****My dear, Sad!John will be on his way to you on the twelfth of this month, I hope you enjoy his company (who am I kidding!) also Delusion!Sherlock says that he is really looking forward to meeting Fictional!Ben!**

**This is primarily a little fill to tide you all over until I come back from holiday**

**Another bit of crack!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer:**

**Not mine yet again! That is all *Bows and leaves the stage***

Chapter four: of Skittles and Suitcases.

"So tell me again Sherlock why we're in a taxi at ten to four in the morning, with suitcases in the boot of said taxi?" John said stifling a yawn.

"We're going on holiday John"

John was not all that awake and so he just nodded for a moment as if in understanding, then his head whipped round so fast Sherlock was sure the poor Doctor would get whiplash.

"We're going on holiday?"

"Yes John"

"But, what about the work? Your brain rots without work, you said it yourself"

"Its not a problem John, I've told Lestrade to text me if anything is interesting, you need some time away, and everyone needs a holiday"

It was too much for John to take in at such an early time in the morning.

"Right, fine, where are we going?"

"Morocco"

"Morocco?"

"Yes John, are you in the habit of parroting everything I say or was that a one off occurrence?"

John rolled his eyes "Sherlock why are we going to Morocco?"

"You need a holiday"

"And you decided to what tag along?"

"Well the idea of a holiday bores me to tears John, but you needed one"

"And what you just thought you'd come with me?"

"As I remember you were planning on going to Morocco with Harry, I thought instead of you going alone and wallowing in misery I'd come with you, to well keep you company."

"Wait a minute, your doing something that you don't particularly want to do because I want to do it?"

"Yes I thought that was rather obvious John"

"You're coming on holiday so that I won't be unhappy?"

"Yes, is that an acceptable thing for a friend to do?"

John Looked at Sherlock for a while, had Sherlock gone round the bend? Was he coming down with a fever?

"You're… your being nice, why?"

It was Sherlock's turn to roll his eyes. "We have established that we are friends am I correct?"

John found himself nodding.

"We work together, we live together and to be perfectly honest I did not want you going on holiday and coming home more miserable than usual… so a holiday together seemed to be the most logical thing to do" he turned and looked out of the cab window "and anyway I don't like it when you're upset" he added in a small voice

John smiled at Sherlock even though he knew the man couldn't see him, he touched Sherlock on the arm "thank you" he said softly. He turned to the window on his right side and began to look out at the dismal pre dawn weather.

When they got to the check in desk, John went first. He answered all the usual security questions such as 'are there any sharp items in your hand luggage, could anyone have had access to your case, could anyone have put anything in your case and finally the most stupid question of all, did you pack your case yourself to which he replied that yes he did, even though Sherlock had packed his case, which was a worrying thought in itself.

When he had finished he told Sherlock he would wait for him in the coffee Shop, Sherlock had nodded and stepped up to the desk.

"Did you pack your case Sir?"

"Well no I do believe I asked some strange homeless people to pack it for me while I was out, is that alright?"

The woman behind the desk took her walkie talkie from underneath the counter and radioed security.

John had just purchased a cup of coffee when he saw two burly security guards hauling Sherlock away.

"Not again!" he said to himself before leaving his coffee where it was and hurrying after the security guards and his squirming flatmate. A week away looked a lot less relaxing by the minute.

A Harried John Watson was now sitting in Departures having told Sherlock that he was not to move until they were called for their flight.

Sherlock was sitting on his carry on luggage and inspecting the contents of a bag of skittles.

"Do you want one John?"

"No Sherlock, you asked me a minute ago, I did say save them for the flight."

"I'm bored"

"Yes so am I but you didn't think to pack me a book to read"

"There's a bookshop over there" Sherlock said pointing to a shop.

"Yes well I can't trust you to behave on your own without me gone, so I'll just have to sit here"

"John I am not a child thank you very much, if you want to go and buy a book then will just sit here quietly and eat my skittles"

John sighed. "Fine, I won't be long."

When John came back, he saw that Sherlock had not moved, he sat down on the same seat as he had vacated and was immediately treated to Sherlock pushing a skittle in his mouth.

"I thought you might be hungry" Sherlock said by way of explanation.

John was trying to respond but the skittle had helpfully lodged itself in his throat and decided to set up camp.

"John your eyes are almost popping, are you alright?"

John tried to gesture to his throat but Sherlock said

"It's no good I was never any good at charades."

John rolled his eyes and got out his mobile.

**Choking silently on that damn skittle a little help would be nice J**

Sherlock heard his phone beep and said "I told the inspector we were going on holiday and will you look at that he can't even wait until we've reached our destination before he texts me, He really is hopeless."

John began to wonder if he was going to die here in an airport departure lounge, he had always imagined that if he were to die it would be facing a murderer or Moriaty, not choking to death on a skittle; all in all he felt it was a little anticlimactic.

"John your looking rather pale are you alright?"

John began to rummage in Sherlock's pocket for his phone and Sherlock let out an undignified shriek. He took the phone that John proffered and read the text when he saw it was from John.

"Well why didn't you say so John, contrary to public belief I am not a mind reader" he said whilst thumping John on the back.

The skittle huffed silently in John's throat as it felt its plans for the death of John Watson slipping away with every thump Sherlock administered to John Watson's back.

With a sigh it was expelled from John Watson and wondered why it couldn't have been born a bullet or something a little more hardcore. A skittle was soo petty.

"John next time tell me your choking don't send me a text." Sherlock said once the Skittle had been vanquished.

"Sherlock!" John rasped.

"Yes John?"

"Don't be soo bloody stupid.

And that would have been how the fight started if their flight hadn't been called.

**A/N: well there you are, this is the last chapter for two weeks while I go to lovely sunny London… (Ok who am I kidding; it's going to be Pishing it down!) So did you like dislike think your dear author has snapped her wits? (Trust me I wouldn't blame you if you do, I was thinking the same thing.)**

**So Onward Push that little button that calls to you!**

**Yes I know the chapter may seem rushed but I wanted to appease my reviewers**

**Much thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	5. Of Bugs and Bedding

**Authors Notes:**

**Hi there! *Waves at all you lovely reviewers* Right so am back in Spain and totally gutted that I will be missing the Meet up! For all of you who do not know go to VerityBurns' page and all the details are there, also go check out some of her work its just a bit awesome!**

**ok so I'm back home and I swear its colder here than in Uk, maybe it just feels like that though!**

**I had half of this chapter written and re-read it and thought no it doesn't work its not funny so I got rid of it, its gone in the rubbish, so this is the new Chapter five!**

**Disclaimer:**

**I don't own, I do however now own a pink camera, the ring from Love never Dies, the Cd of Love Never Dies and a Program from the aforementioned theatre production.**

**Onwards you Lovely people! **

***Bows and leaves the stage***

Chapter five: Of Bugs and Bedding:

Once they had arrived at the hotel John had gone to check out the view from the balcony, Sherlock however had begun to dismantle the built in wardrobe.

John watched him for a moment wondering what he was doing.

"Do you need more space in the wardrobe Sherlock? I'm sure I can move some of my things to the drawers in my bedside table."

"No John the room in the wardrobe is adequate, I'm looking for bugs"

"Just because we're abroad doesn't mean that there will be insects all over the room you know, it seems clean enough to me, come outside and take a look at this view"

"I'm busy John, I'm sure the view is… nice" he said deciding that Nice was the best word to fit the purpose.

"Nice, Sherlock come outside you can search for bugs in a moment, hang on what are you doing to my bed?" Asked John as he walked back into the room to find Sherlock now dismantling his bed.

"Bugs" Sherlock grunted.

"Bugs? Right, what sorts, Millipedes, or maybe Cicadas, or is it possibly the dreaded earwig?"

"No John, Bugs" Sherlock replied.

"Sorry no that doesn't help"

"Let me simplify it for you then seeing as you seem to have left what little brains you have at Baker Street, Surveillance."

John was hurt by Sherlock's cutting comment; He didn't come on holiday to work, not as a doctor and defiantly not as Sherlock's… well whatever he was to Sherlock. He had come on holiday to relax, to enjoy himself.

"Right. So big brother may indeed be watching us?"

"Not Mycroft per say no"

"What his PA?"

Sherlock said nothing just began to tug at the seam of the mattress.

"Ok, not the PA then, come on, I've left my brain at home remember"

"Moriarty, John. He's hardly likely to let us holiday in peace" Sherlock said spiting the word holiday out with venom.

"Oh for goodness sake Sherlock, if you don't want to be here then you can probably get on the next available flight home, I do want to be here, so if you want to continue to look for bugs then fine, you do that, I however am going down to the bar, or I might be really reckless and walk around the night markets on my own!"

He grabbed his coat and a key card, reasoning that it wouldn't do to be locked out of his own hotel room and headed out into the hotel, leaving a very confused Sherlock now fussing with the seam of the mattress.

John had indeed gone out on the streets after the bar provided nothing but a fifty year old barman with not much English skills and no good beers available.

He walked along the streets, lit from above by streetlamps and occasionally little lanterns above the stalls.

If he was any sort of a writer he would have a notebook with him and he would have been making notes on the different sights and smells of the market, the smell of the herbs and fruit and even the heat and how it makes the meat smell, well more like meat, but John was not a writer, he was just a blogger and that was only because his therapist thought it would be good for him. If he was being honest he hadn't written anything since Harry's funeral and that had been two months ago.

He strolled passed the stalls wondering if Sherlock had thought to pack a camera, probably not, Sherlock wouldn't think of something as logical as a camera. Maybe a few human intestines, providing he could get them through security but a camera, no.

Sherlock looked around the room, it was in total disarray. He had inspected their hotel room and found no bugs whatsoever.

John's bed was a right off, the slats and mattress in a pile by the balcony doors, that would no doubt come out of their bill or something mundane like that, but the important factor was that there was no-body spying on them, the bed could be replaced, John Watson could not.

Sherlock was not a self centred man, but John Watson was his, he was sure John knew this, he had to know, after all Sherlock took him places, like here for example, and he would always answer most of John's questions, and even put up with John leaving him in the flat when he went to see Sarah.

To show how much he appreciated John he would try and put his bed back together.

Because that was the sort of thing he supposed John would do for him.

After a few hours trailing round the markets John decided to head back to the hotel, he was calm again now and was more than ready for a shouting match with his flatmate.

If a shouting match was called for.

If he was honest with himself he was exhausted, he could do with a nice beer on the balcony of his hotel room before he had an early night.

He hated travelling, well he hated the actual first day of travelling, there was the wait at the airport, and he had almost choked to death on a skittle, he'd probably have nightmares for weeks about that particular brand of confectionary staging a coup to take over the world or something now then there was the check in at the hotel, the staff had been helpful, but the fact that they spoke pigeon English was a little bit of a drawback, then there was his holiday partner, who had been trying to single handily wreck their room when he had left.

'_No John__.' _he told himself _'not the room, your bed.'_

To be honest he didn't know which he found more worrying the fact that Sherlock had been trying to rip apart his, bed so determinedly or the fact that it may have been the whole room.

A bed he could cope with, getting kicked out of the hotel because of Sherlock, he could probably cope with too… Oh he had been around Sherlock too bloody long if getting kicked out of hotels was, 'fine.'

Slotting his Key card back into the door he steeled himself for the chaos that was to ensue.

He opened the door to find Sherlock lying on his bed balcony door open.

"Ah your back" Sherlock said in a bored tone.

"Yes, I umm I am" John took a look at the room; everything was back to how it had looked when they walked in the room together a few hours ago.

He decided that maybe the hotel staff had come to check if either of them required anything for their stay and had noticed the mess and fixed the bed and wardrobe, and whatever else Sherlock had destroyed in John's absence.

"How was the market?"

"It was, well it was good," John replied unsure what terms he could use to explain the market to Sherlock, he moved to his bed and sat on it gingerly.

"I see they fixed the room." he carried on swinging his legs onto the bed, and getting comfortable.

"Oh, no I did." Sherlock said

John sat up from his position lightening fast and that's when two things happened almost simultaneously.

The bed slats groaned and fell out of their grooves, sending their occupant sprawling to the floor, and three of the four shelves in the wardrobe fell to the floor narrowly missing hitting John's head.

John glared at the fourth shelf daring it to fall but it looked stubbornly back at him as if saying that it was holding on by willpower alone and it was quite happy there for the time being thank you very much.

And that as the maid would later tell the concierge was how the pillow fight started.

**Author note:**** I apologise for how long this has taken me, the boys were not willing to play on this chapter!**

**Who knows where the next chapter will go, do you want more of the holiday, or something different? I have a few things in mind but you tell me!**

**Once again thank you for the fab reviews! They make my day!**

**Till next time my dears!**


	6. Of Arguments and Thoughts of Death

Authors Notes:

Here I am again, this is a little bit of angst I suppose, mainly because it needed to be done, after all we all love John Watson, we do, but wouldn't we just love to know what he thinks about?

I was going to do more crack but it is half written and has decided to wait until after this chapter is posted to make an appearance!

That is all!

Oh yes I have a new laptop so I am getting to grips with it so I apologise if anything is majorly wrong here e.g. formatting

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no profit off this so don't sue!

Much love and thanks as always go to the reviewers who are awesome!

Ps:

Those who wanted more from the last chapter do not fret you will be getting it, in the form of a one shot entitled 'Holiday' so keep a look out for that!

*Bows and leaves the stage*

John Watson was a mild man, he did not perform dangerous experiments on the kitchen table, he did not seem to flirt with danger as a past time, he just was.

If John Watson were a dog he would be a labrador a dependable sort of dog, who always appeared when his master called for him, a very loyal sort of dog.

John Watson was the sort of person that you could trust to look after your house, you could come home after you're lovely holiday and find everything exactly where you had left it, your post would be sorted and organised and your house would be a little bit neater than when you left it.

John sometimes wondered if when he died that his tombstone would have the words Dependable and Loyal on it and not much else.

John Watson sometimes thought a lot about his death.

After all it was something that happened to everyone sooner or later, he however had probably cheated the reaper many times over.

When he had returned from the war, when the dreams haunted him he would think longingly of ties in his bottom drawer and the hight of his desk chair, it would be painful and there was no guarantee that it would be effective, then he thought of the medication it would be effective, and he was a doctor after all, he knew the correct amount for an overdose, but then again there was always the small margin of error, it may work, but then again it may not and he would be left in agony until the end came.

Before he had time to think about drowning or asphyxiation he met an old friend Mike Stamford who introduced him to Sherlock Holmes.

No longer did he spend empty days contemplating the best ways to top himself and then backing out. Now he spent days making tea, chasing his flatmate around London and the surrounding counties, and doing the shopping.

Some nights he would collapse into his bed and he would be too tired for the nightmares, and some nights the horrors of the war would visit him, but in the morning weather he had slept peacefully or no Sherlock would be there in that ratty dressing-gown complaining about either the lack of anything interesting on the tele or the inadequacy of the police nowadays.

If it was the latter he would always hurry upstairs to dress for the day before following his Flatmate out to whichever crime scene was current.

The times when there were no cases he thought about death, about what it meant to him now.

Before he would have said he would have liked to die in Afghanistan, helping a fellow Soldier, on his return to England he would have said he would have liked to die quickly painlessly as soon as possible thank you very much.

Now he didn't know, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

At the pool strapped to a bomb he reasoned his time had come, after all when you went round killing Cabbies your number had to be up, the whirlwind life that had been so exiting, that had kept thoughts of the reaper from him had to be over now.

And strangely enough he didn't want to die yet.

Life wasn't over, it couldn't be, he had so much more he wanted to live for, there was Sherlock for instance, the strange man that he had rented a flat, not knowing anything about him, the man he had killed a cabbie for on the same day as moving in with, the man who didn't have a clue that decomposing heads did not live in the fridge, the man who played the violin at all sorts of strange hours.

He had he supposed attached himself to Sherlock Holmes and his mad life, he had created a new life for himself and damn it all, this was not how it was going to end, in a swimming pool with a bomb strapped to him.

For a few moments he thought it may have been and the thought scared him.

It was alright for Sherlock, he didn't have to worry about feelings, John presumed Sherlock didn't think about death at all, it just wasn't important to him.

But for John it was.

"John? John are you listening to a word I've been saying?"

"Sorry what?" He asked.

"I said that Cynthia has no alibi and she does have a motive"

"You want me to go and talk to her?"

"No she's far to unstable for that, I'll go"

"RIght so she's too unstable for me to talk to but you who could probably turn a pacifist into a warmonger after saying good morning to them is fine?"

"I just thought…"

"Yes well sometimes you could do a damn site better by not thinking."

Sherlock was gaping at John, as if he had never seen him before.

"Are you upset about your sister again John?"

"No!"

"Well then what's the matter?"

"Oh it doesn't matter, you wouldn't understand"

"Do you need another holiday? we could go back to morocco if you want, I mean I know we've only been back here a month but if you need another holiday we could…"

"No Sherlock" John said looking at his now cold cup of tea.

"What then?"

"Do you ever think about dying?"

"Dying John, not really no, once your dead thats the end of things really so there isn't much point in thinking about it, one could think and plan about the way one wanted to die and it would never come to anything but thought, its irrelevant really"

"Thought so, Death is irrelevant to you, one day it may be a nice idea to write a list of all the things you think of as irrelevant so that if ever we were stuck somewhere we could have something interesting to talk about"

"John I would prefer it if we didn't argue, although if you can't tell me or won't tell me what has got you so angry then I can't help you."

"I don't want Helping Sherlock, its just sometimes you… You have all the sensitivity of a serial killer and thats saying something"

"What?"

"Well you annoy Anderson and Donovan on a daily basis, lets just say that you are not the best person to deal with Cynthia Bridges who has just lost her Husband"

"It was a crime of passion John, she doesn't really care that he's dead, its a sob story thats all"

"No Sherlock, even if she did kill him, which she could have done, a person that she's been used to spending all her free time with is gone, that leaves a terrible void"

Sherlock shrugged as if the information was of no interest to him.

John groaned in frustration, trying to get anything across to Sherlock that he didn't have knowledge in was pointless.

"Imagine then if you will" John began seriously doubting his sanity, "That after all these months that we've spent together I suddenly died"

"Are you unwell?"

"No"

"Well then why talk of dying John?"

"It was hypothetical Sherlock, I'm not likely to drop dead at any moment, however much I wish it at times"

Sherlock took in a sharp breath "You don't want to be here John?"

"No Sherlock, that's not what I meant, I just meant…"

"I see John, I see quite clearly, you have until the end of the week to find another place of residence."

"Sherlock!" John said grabbing the aforementioned mans arms to stop him from leaving the room, as he was about to.

"Just stop a minute. Please, i don't want to find somewhere else to live, I just meant that if You were in Cynthia's position how would you feel?"

"Are you implying that I am in love with you yet you lust after some other woman?"

"What, no! Just that we spend almost every waking moment together, and if one of us were to go, then the other one well they would be a little bit upset maybe…?"

"Oh, not really no"

John dreamt of War that night, it was the first fight that he had had with Sherlock where they had not resolved the issue by sunset.

_'Never let the sun go down on your anger John, because the next day apologising is even harder to do' _ his father had once said.

He couldn't see how he could apologise to Sherlock now, it was Sherlock's fault.

when he awoke sweating and screaming because of the ferocity of this particular dream the last person he expected to see standing in the doorway of his room was Sherlock, but there he was.

"…Lock?"

"You were having a nightmare, they say not to wake people who have nightmares, but I…" he looked around John's room as if running out of things to say, of ideas to voice.

"I'm awake now Sherlock" John replied rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"I… I couldn't sleep"

"Well thats no change" John replied hotly, "you never sleep when your on cases Sherlock"

"Oh no this case is all finished with now John, I just need to tell Lestrade tomorrow morning and then its done, but I couldn't sleep because we argued, I only realised that about ten minutes ago, and then I wasn't sure about if I should wake you up and tell you, so then I thought that I'd see if you were awake and if you weren't I'd tell you tomorrow, but then you were having a nightmare so…" he stopped again playing without the cord of his dressing-gown

John Shook his head "Well you've told me now haven't you"

Sherlock nodded and stared at the cordon his dressing gown as if it were something really riveting.

"Was there something else Sherlock?"

"Umm well" he began

Oh this had to be good, something that would make sherlock 'Umm' like a nervous little schoolboy.

"Go on" John said, a small smile gracing his face.

"Well I had heard that it is at times like this a hug is considered commonplace"

"Yes a hug would be considered commonplace, but… What time is it?"

"A quarter past four in the morning"

"Right, in that case you can have your hug tomorrow, on the provisor that you make me a cup to go with it."

Sherlock smiled, one of his rare full smiles, that seemed to light up the whole of his being, John wished he had the light on so that he could better see it.

"Alright John. Tomorrow Morning you Shall have your hug and your cup of tea."

John smiled and settled back into the bed, maybe soon He would stop dreaming bad dreams, and maybe because of that infuriating an brilliant mans help he wouldn't have time to think about death any more.

Maybe.

**So there you have it guys and gals, I hated it you may love it but if you do one thing today, review please!**

**Much thanks!**


	7. Of hugs and the matter of tea

Authors Note:

**Well the year is coming to its close now and people will start getting ready for their holidays again, just a little question, would you like there to be a break between this chapter and the next one?**

**because many of you may be making journeys to go see family for the festive season so I just wanted the reviewers to decide please put your answer in the review that you give me.**

**and now a quick Shout-out to you reviewers:**

OperaGoose: **My dear, where would I be without you? this person all you other guys and girls is the person who got this story started, it all started with a pm about a washing machine and the story grew from there, also she was the one that gave me Delusion!Sherlock and the Yum of Sherlocks started, yes a collection of Sherlocks is Now a yum!**

XMillieX; **Well dear you are taking a wonderful trip with the boys aren't you? I always love Reviewers that stick to the story from the start and indeed all Sherlock wants is to hug it out, will he get his chance to? all will become clear in this chapter, maybe!**

**And Lastly (For now)**

Barn and co () :** Hi there newbee, glad you found us here in this little area of fandom, you have a good point there in your review keep reading, and enjoy the ride!**

Disclaimer: **I don't own, I don't stop staring at me like that! I do however earn a dvd of Sherlock and a new Mac, on that new Mac I am listening to Fear on four, with Mark Gatiss as the man in Black as I write, no don't own Mark either, if I did series two would go in a totally different way that it probably will do!**

**Anyway onwards, *Bows and leaves the stage***

Chapter Seven: Of Hugs and the Matter of Tea.

John had never felt so comfortable in his bed, there had been no dreams after Sherlock had apologised at that silly time last night, and he felt very at ease, he wondered how long he could stay in bed before Sherlock demanded him be up and awake, it might be the violin or even a good old Wall shooting.

John kept trying to stop Sherlock shooting the walls on many occasions but to no avail, he just tended to tell Mrs Hudson that the wall would have to come out of Sherlock's half of the rent.

come to think of it quite a lot of things ended up coming out of Sherlock's half of the rent, and really they only did because John isn't more proactive about training his flatmate, after all he's sure that other people have to put up with their flatmates leaving things in strange places, the strangest so far for John has been a tampon in the toaster, a used tampon.

He had begun to worry about Sherlock, if he was leaving used Tampons around for John to find then maybe he was trying to tell John something, in his own roundabout way.

John wondered if he should have broached the subject at the time, but they hadn't had the time, they had been on two different cases simultaneously and he had been trying to ensure that Sherlock had eaten.

it was at times like that, that John carried a few packets of Cuppa-Soups with him, he had found Sherlocks favourite was 'Golden Vegetable' and so always had a few of these sachets in his pocket for times when they were anywhere near the vicinity of Scotland Yard, between his glaring and the Detective Inspectors moaning about how thin Sherlock was, the man in question would drink a Cuppa-Soup, complaining all the time about how having to digest the thing would slow him down.

John didn't know what he would do when the summer came and it was too hot to drink Cuppa-Soups.

Maybe he could branch out and try making Gaspacho he had eaten it once in a tapas bar, it was a cold soup made with vegetables, but he couldn't really carry it around with him in his pocket, the squelching of the aforementioned pocket would be a bit of a give away for Sherlock, whereas the sachets could easily be pieces of paper in his pocket. He was pretty sure that Sherlock had figured it out by now, after all you can't fool a consulting detective, at all, unless… no you just can't.

He snuggled into the duvet a bit more, wondering if maybe he should ask Sarah out tonight, he's got no idea of whats showing at the cinema, but it would be a good idea to go out somewhere that the only kidnapping you were likely to see would be on the big screen.

Sherlock sighed and pushed himself of the sofa, John had said that he could have a hug when he had made a cup of tea.

he had seen John perform part of the tea making process so it shouldn't be too hard.

He began by collecting the two cups and putting the water in the kettle to boil.

he put the kettle back on the stand, flicked the switch for it to boil and rooted in the cupboards for the teabags, it was silly that John had rearranged the cupboards how was he meant t find his petri dishes in an emergency now? `it wasn't his fault that he was taller than his flatmate.

Teabags found, he dropped one in his mug, and one in Johns regimental mug.

He knew that John thought he didn't know how to make tea but it was just a common form of chemistry, drinkable chemistry, but chemistry nonetheless simple as boiling an egg, or in sherlocks case an ear, for an experiment of course.

waiting for the kettle to boil he went to the fridge for the milk, he said a quick hello to the head, a different one to the one that had been there before the pool incident a month ago.

they had both been hospitalised after the pool incident and Mrs Hudson had cleaned the flat in their absence, so he had had to find a replacement head.

Molly had been lass than helpful, had even gone so far as to accuse him of kidnapping her boyfriend.

He had tried telling the poor girl yet again that her boyfriend was gay, and if anyone had been about to kidnap anyone it would have been Jim kidnaping him Sherlock, not the other way round.

Molly had run out of the room sobbing, and he hadn't told John what had happened, he thought it best, John had been edgy over the past few weeks for some unfathomable reason, but Sherlock was sure that a hug would fix things, Hugs had always fixed things when he was younger, if he had been fighting with Mycroft and gained a split lip because his older brother had been a little on the rough side then he had run to nanny and she had hugged him, making small shh-ing noises until he had felt better.

As he thought of it after Harry Watson's death he had not hugged John, He had not shown any feelings he had never known the woman but he should have done something.

But he had, he had taken John on holiday.

Had met Irene, and all but ignored John because of spending time with Irene.

Oh dear, John would call it a bit not good, He had a lot to make up for, tea was just the tip of the iceberg.

John was getting a little bit anxious, he had looked at his clock and it had confirmed that the time was eleven fifteen in the morning.

He was never able to sleep past at lest nine in the morning, mainly because of Sherlock but partly because of his nightmares. and another small part because of who he was, he was used to getting up early, lie ins just weren't him.

After Sherlock had left for his own room last night, John had slept peacefully, dreaming about Irene Adler chasing him with a cup of tea for some reason. he had found the whole dream scenario so bizarre that he had questioned Irene on why she was chasing him.

_'He won't hug me until I give you this'_

_'Who won't?'_

_'Sherlock, and if I can Just show him I've changed then everything will be alright again'_

_'of course it will' _

_'it has to be, he doesn't understand you see John, things have to go back to the way they were, I… Just please take the tea'_

He had yet to figure out how a hug would show Sherlock that she had changed, and had carried on having the same repetitive conversation with the strange woman until he complained that the tea would be cold, to which she replied that it was an immortal cup of tea, which seemed fine by him but what did that have to do with its temperature?

the dream just got progressively weirder with Sherlock appearing but instead of having his normal head it was changed into a glitter-ball.

He heard the glitter ball headed Sherlock telling him not to trust irene and muttering about the usefulness of immortal tea, and that was about where he woke up, a fact that he was very happy about.

Had he eaten cheese the night before? if so he vowed never to eat it again.

Where was Sherlock? had he had an accident? John rolled his eyes at his own idea, Sherlock and accidents… it seemed a plausible enough thought, would he require medical assistance? Undoubtedly so. Damn! he was enjoying lazing in bed, now he would have to get up, dressed and attend to Sherlock.

Sherlock could hear footsteps on the stairs, John was awake, damn. He wasn't supposed to be awake for another twenty seven and a half minutes, that way the egg would be boiled and the toast would be buttered and still warm along with the tea.

there would be nothing for it he would have to modify his plan.

but that was alright, because modifying plans was one of the many things he was good at.

Smiling to himself he checked on the egg and put the kettle on to boil once again.

John would think he was a good flatmate.

Correction, John would think he was the only flatmate he would ever want.

"Good morning Sherlock" John said looking around the kitchen, it looked like a different kitchen, the table had been cleared of its experiments that John had often thought were superglued to the top, and had a white cloth over the tp, presumably to hide burn marks or other marks which John didn't want tot think about before a good cup of tea.

"Here you are John a nice cup of tea, breakfast wont be a moment." Sherlock said with a grin.

"Breakfast?" John asked fearing for his stomach, truth be told he had never seen his flatmate cook anything, ever.

"Yes, a boiled egg and some toast, I would offer you more but that's all there was in the flat, I'll have to go shopping later on today."

"Right," John nodded almost to himself before saying "right" once again

"Salt and Pepper!" Sherlock suddenly exclaimed giving John a shock that almost sent his tea hurtling to the floor. Sherlock began hunting for the aforementioned condiments in the nearest cupboard.

"I'll… Uhh, I'l have to remember to thank Mrs Hudson sometime today won't I?"

"Why?"

"Well I can almost believe that you are able to make a cup of tea, but cooking boiled eggs is a bit beyond you Sherlock. And toast?" John shook his head this time "Not to mention an experiment free kitchen, the whole place looks like its had a crack team of cleaners in overnight or something, another thing I'll have to thank Mrs Hudson for no-doubt, you know you really do ask too much of her, after all she's our landlady not a housekeeper."

Sherlock stood there for a moment, a slice of bread in one hand a butter knife in the other, he looked, shocked.

"Well John as I said your breakfast will be done in a moment" He replied with another cheerful grin.

"Is she downstairs? I may as well thank her now and get it over and done with then I can have a chat to you about the things you do and do not coerce your landlady into doing for you!" he put his mug down on the white table cloth and turned to go and speak to their long suffering landlady.

"John, your making a terrible mistake" Sherlock said.

"No I really think I'm not" John replied.

"Go down if you will then" Sherlock huffed, turning his back on John and returning to the stove to keep an eye on the egg.

When John came back a few minutes later he stared at Sherlock's back for a few moments before saying

"She's not there"

"No"

"She's gone out hasn't she?"

"Yes"

"How long has she been gone for?"

"Oh since last night, nine o'clock, she caught a train up to Scotland to see her pen-pal Maurice, he's not very well you see."

John scrubbed a hand through his hair "Right, and you didn't think to tell me this before I made an idiot out of myself?"

Sherlock shrugged and said nothing but plonked a plate, with a boiled egg in an egg cup and two pieces of toast cut in half diagonally and buttered, on the table.

"Your breakfast is ready John"

"So you did all of this, you cleaned, you cooked you made a cup of tea… Why?" John asked taking the top of his egg and smiling a little when he found the yolk to be of a perfect consistency.

"Well you said you'd hug me if I made you a cup of tea, and then when i was making your tea I had a thought, "

"Go on." John replied salting and peppering his egg

"Well just thought that you your well, Oh John…" Sherlock went into the living room and got out his violin he began plucking the strings, but then put it back in its case and put the case beside the fire.

"What?" John asked mouthful of toast.

"You, well you do things, and I wanted to show you that I can do things too"

John found this whole situation totally and utterly unbelievable, that and funny, he was just debating weather to laugh or not when he realised Sherlock was being deadly serious.

"Right, well where would we be if I didn't do things Sherlock hmm?"

"No I'm not saying that, I just wanted to, well cook you breakfast to show how much I…"

"Yes?"

"How much I…" He tried again.

John couldn't hep the laugh that escaped him this time.

"its fine you lunatic, come here" John said opening his arms to be hugged.

Sherlock smiled and hugged his flatmate, his friend

"Now sit down and eat something and then we'll go shopping later."

"I can do it, the shopping, I said I would."

"Alright" John replied.

And that Sherlock would later tell Lestrade, was how the food war started.

**And there you have it, do you love or do you hate it unless you tell me I can't put new ideas in the works, and please do tell me in your review or your PM (Whichever) if you would like me to go on hiatus for Christmas or whichever holiday/festival you celebrate. the majority will get their motion passed.**

**once again if you have enjoyed this chapter there is no need to pay me by pay-pal or donation the only thing I ask for is a little review, to show your enjoyment, disgust tears, death threats, so click the little button **

**:)**

***Bows and leaves the stage***


	8. Of Sofa's Snow and Decorations

**Here we go then Chapter eight, and can I just say how totally flipping fab you guys are!**

**I'm awed at the response I've got from this fic, **

**so onwards!**

**to the thank-you's **

**OpeeraGoose! My dear what would I do without you? Seriously!**

**Verity Burns: well here we are again thank you for giving me the support needed to continue this especially when sometimes I've felt that its been pointless **

**17: you've arrived a little late in the game but hey who cares, you're here thats all that matters, I hope you had a safe flight and all that Jazz and you enjoy this chapter when you get to read it.**

**Everyone else who I haven't written especially to I value the time you spend reading this and I'd love to write you all down but the chapter would be too long!**

**Rest assured that I love you all!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own at all. Wish I did, anyone care to give me avery generous christmas prezzie? *Looks Hopeful…* No, oh ok then, maybe next year!**

**Onwards Brave reviewers!**

***Bows and leaves the stage***

Chapter eight, Of Sofas, Snow and Decorations.

John wondered if maybe he should put a bell on his flatmate. he had gone down to the kitchen to see a note on the earlobe on the stove, saying

_Don't touch, experiment. Gone out, be back later, case. SH_

So he had left the earlobe where it was and set about making himself breakfast, or rather brunch as it was almost one in the afternoon.

He had crawled into bed at something like three that morning, after a hellish series of murders, he had been working on fumes, as he had had no sleep and hardly any food for the past three days.

Beans on toast and mug of tea done, he decided to put the telly on and see if there was anything on.

Of course, it would have to be Scrooge, or one of the very many incarnations of him, this one even had colourful singing and dancing puppets.

It was when Lestrade called, just as he had started to get into Pollyanna, that John remembered it was December, and wondered halfheartedly where the year has gone.

"Right ok, not a problem Greg… No I'll be there right away" he said quickly before hanging up.

He tried ineffectually to hail a cab, and wondered how Sherlock could hail one with so much ease.

The cabbie seemed to have had an accident in the interior of the cab, decorations festooned the cab, as if they had exploded in the interior, the driver was wearing a Santa hat, the radio was even playing christmas hits.

John wondered if he could possibly, when he got back home from picking Sherlock up, sleep right through Christmas, and arrive awake when new years arrived, preferably with a drink in his hand.

He doubted it.

Arriving at the house Lestrade had told him he was met with a dancing Santa on the front lawn.

The interior of the house, a nice semi-detached house was similarly decorated with a Christmas wreath on the front door, and paper snowflakes hung above paintings and photographs depicting a young married couple, and a baby.

"Lestrade?" he called, wiping his snowy boots on the welcome mat just inside the front door.

"Through here doctor Watson." He heard the inspector call.

He wondered if Sherlock had needed his help with the latest dead body, he hoped so, he didn't like to admit it but when Sherlock left on a case, and didn't take John with him, the Army medic always felt a little, bored.

John entered the living room prepared for anything, he had learnt over the past, eleven months that having a strong stomach was a necessity, he was glad he had one.

The sight that met his eyes however wasn't one wherein a strong stomach was needed, more a case of a straight face.

The great Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes was spark out asleep by the looks of it, on the sofa in the front room of a strangers house.

"We thought it best to wait for you, you probably have more…" the Inspector racked his brains for the right wording. "…Expertise when it comes to this situation than any of us have."

Sally tried to hide her snigger, but failed miserably, earning herself an angry glare from her boss.

"No Inspector it is the season to be Jolly and all that, Sally why don't you try to wake him up." John said with a smirk.

"What me?" She asked, shocked.

"Yes," John replied "Unless there was another Sally in the room I wasn't aware of."

"You want me to wake the freak up?"

"Where's your charity to fellow man Sally, or does that only extend as far as Anderson here?" John asked slapping the aforementioned Anderson on the back.

"All right Doctor Watson you've had your fun, can you please wake him up? Mr and Mrs Stafford had a shock this morning finding him lying there, they thought he was dead" Greg said looking at Sally and Anderson's sour faces.

John moved so that he was crouching in front of Sherlock "Where's his coat and scarf?"

"We, we didn't know he had them with him" Lestrade replied.

John tried to remember if he had seen Sherlock's coat and scarf hanging up, or anywhere in the flat and found he couldn't remember. Oh well, if his flatmate got the flu it would serve him right for going out without the proper clothing.

He sighed and shook Sherlock's shoulder "Wake up Sherlock, come on."

Nothing.

He shook the man's shoulder a little more forcefully, still nothing, if anything the man seemed to curl a little more into himself and continue to sleep peacefully.

"Damnit! Wake Up Sherlock!" John bellowed.

The detective woke slowly, he had never been a big fan of the lethargy that came with waking up, that moment when the body protests at having to be put into some sort of action whilst at the same time being in a lovely warm haze of sleep.

He stretched his arms upwards, behind his head, and narrowly missed toppling the Christmas Tree standing by the sofa, he did the same with his legs, wiggling his toes for that extra centimetre of stretch.

He scrubbed a hand over his hair and slowly opened his eyes.

"John?" he said, laying his eyes on his flatmate as if unsure why John was here.

"Yes, hello, what are you doing here?"

"Case"

"Right, which required you to sleep on a complete strangers Sofa?"

"Was I asleep?" Sherlock asked looking confused.

"Yes," John replied. "You must have just been soo exhausted that your body had had enough, what time did you go out on this case? I got your note on the earlobe by the way"

"Oh good, you didn't move it did you?"

"No of course I didn't, I did contemplate having it for breakfast with some beans though! God Sherlock you can't do this, you can't just walk into peoples houses, I thought we talked about this!"

Sherlock waived a hand, "Deleted it John!" he stared at the doctor for a moment "You thought about having the earlobe for breakfast John," Sherlock shuddered "That is revolting and probably illegal in many countries"

John rolled his eyes only Sherlock could be so eloquent after just waking up. "its called sarcasm Sherlock, I thought you understood the concept, even if you haven't truly grasped the execution of it."

"No John it's called Cannibalism."

John rolled his eyes yet again, the idea of knocking himself unconscious with the nearest blunt object on his return to Baker St was looking more and more pleasing every passing minute.

"Come on, lets go home"

"But I haven't…" Sherlock began

"You have now Sherlock!" John replied sternly.

Sherlock pouted, John ignored him and pulled him up from the sofa.

"Where's my coat and scarf?" Sherlock asked looking round as if expecting the items to jump from some hiding place.

"I don't know, I'm not your keeper Sherlock"

"You didn't bring them with you?"

"No, I didn't realise that you didn't have them"

"It was an experiment"

"Right of course it was!" John said wondering if maybe one day he could become telepathic, it would make living with Sherlock a damn sight easier!

The minute they stepped out of the house a taxi pulled up.

"Home John?"

John nodded, it wouldn't do for Sherlock to get sick now, if there was one thing he was sick of dealing with it was Flu, and colds.

He got into the taxi and saw it was the same one that had brought him here.

That was it, he was knocking himself out the moment he got back home.

When the pair returned to Baker St they were met by Mrs Hudson.

"Sherlock, where have you been, and without a coat too, really! John love I've left some decorations in a box in the living room for you seeing as you hadn't put any up"

John's brow furrowed "Right, thanks Mrs Hudson, that was kind of you" he said stomping up the stairs to the flat.

Sherlock and Mrs Hudson exchanged a look but said nothing.

When Sherlock entered the flat he found John sitting in his armchair with the paper.

"Shall we put the decoration's up, look there's even a small tree here, we could put it by the window and then the presents could go underneath it, its one of those fibre-optic things so the fairy lights could go over the mirror unless you want to put tinsel there?" Sherlock was already pulling things out of the box, suppressed excitement evident in the way he pulled something out and examined it before looking round the flat for the perfect place to put it.

"Whatever you want Sherlock"

"Well I won't be able to do it all myself"

"Get Mrs Hudson to help you"John said turning the page of the paper.

"No I want you to help"

"Well, it's not going to happen" John replied.

"I thought you'd want to decorate"

"Well, I don't so how about you don't!" John snapped.

There was no comment from Sherlock to this and so John chalked it up as a small win until Sherlock began to hum 'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas'

"Stop Sherlock, for goodness sake just stop!" John said getting up and repacking the box.

For a few moments as John put an item back in the box Sherlock would take it out again.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing the decorations up Sherlock, we don't need them"

"Yes we do John, Its Christmas, you have to put decorations up at Christmas"

John rolled his eyes and Sherlock thought that any minute his flatmate was going to say 'Bah Humbug!'

"I don't have to do anything Sherlock!"

"Why do you hate Christmas John?"

"It's not important Sherlock lets just leave it, put the decorations up in your room if you have to have them up at all"

"The tree though, surely the tree can stay down here?"

John shook his head

"But where will we put the presents?"

"In the fire for all I care"

Sherlock threw himself dramatically on the sofa "Give me something to work with here John"

"You already have a case"

"Solved it, the most important case is why you seem to hate Christmas, you're not really religious but you want a church funeral in the event of your demise… Did someone not get what they wanted one Christmas is that what it is?"

John's lips formed a thin line and he went to the kitchen putting the kettle on, and digging out the biscuits. He took a quick look in the fridge and saw some cheese slices, bread and butter, it would have to be toasties for dinner tonight then, providing Sherlock hadn't blown up the toastie machine.

"If I tell you and allow you to put the decorations up will you eat something for dinner?" He asked Sherlock.

Sherlock grinned to himself, he hadn't expected John to crumble so quickly.

"Depends what horrors I have to eat" he replied.

"If you're not careful it'll be the earlobe!" John warned

"You'd better not John!" he began.

"Don't worry I'm joking Sherlock!"

"So what culinary delights do I have to look forward to?"

"Toasties" John replied.

"What?"

"Toasted Sandwiches, have you heard of them?"

Sherlock seemed to be sorting through his brain. "Have we had anything related to them on a case or anything similar?"

"Don't think so, why is it important?"

"Not in the least, and the answer is no, I haven't heard of them"

"Oh, ok well you're getting them for dinner, you do like cheese right?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Good" John replied

"Will you help me put the decorations up before dinner?"

John sighed but nodded "But if you start singing any weird Christmas hits then I will burn the decorations in the fire!"

Sherlock grinned "Ok, you have a deal Doctor Watson!"

John came over to where the box was and began to pull things out.

"Do we have any tac's or Sellotape?" Sherlock asked.

"Umm I think there is some Sellotape in the kitchen, do you want the scissors too?"

"Where did you hide them?"

"I haven't hidden them Sherlock, I just put them out of the way, do you know where they were before I put them away?"

"In their proper place?"

"No on the sofa, pointy end up!"

"Exactly" Sherlock replied

John shook his head "you could have done yourself an injury"

"Don't be daft John I knew where they were"

"For five minutes maybe, what happened if you deleted that knowledge for something more deserving of the space?"

"Look you put them in a safe place so its fine, now how about you get them and the Sellotape or else it's going to be one tomorrow morning before we get anything to eat!"

"Woah you're actually admitting you want to eat?"

"Well I've never eaten a toastie before, it sounds interesting, and plus you promised to tell me about why you hate christmas"

John sighed, yes he had agreed to that.

He searched in one of the kitchen drawers and returned with the Sellotape but Scissor-less.

Sherlock held out his hand "Scissors?"

"They seem to be missing"

"Never mind, I'll use my teeth"

John shook his head.

They began decorating in ernest, all the while John telling him how when he had been going out with Clara, his last Christmas at home before he was deployed to Afghanistan, he had planned to propose to her on Christmas eve, that was until he had found Harry and Clara in a rather passionate rather steamy embrace.

Harry and Clara had both apologised profusely, but ever since he had hated the holiday with a passion, whilst in Afghanistan he had been able to forget, decorations were low key out there, and carols and songs only sung christmas eve and Christmas day. Coming back to England and spending Christmas in London where everywhere it looked like a Christmas bomb had exploded just brought back the feeling of betrayal and hurt.

Once the decorations had been put up they sat back to admire their handiwork, the mirror had been adorned with fairy lights, tinsel wound its way almost sinuously around the mantle and the tree was sitting on the windowsill, its flossing fibre-optic display mirrored by the window.

All in all the flat looked extremely festive and for once John found he didn't mind.

"Now where shall we put this I wonder?" Sherlock asked fishing a small sprig of mistletoe out of the bottom of the cardboard box.

"Put that back in the box Sherlock." John said looking at the sprig as if it was about to bite him.

"I think we should hang it above the door, what do you think?"

I think that is the worst Idea you have ever had!"

"Well i think it will be fun, get one of the chairs from the kitchen and hold it will you"

"Sherlock!"

"Ah ah ah John, all Christmas traditions must be upheld!" Sherlock said waiving the mistletoe in front of his flatmate as if to prove his point.

John sighed and went to fetch a chair.

as he was holding it while Sherlock fixed the mistletoe in place he said "Just so you know Lestrade comes to the door and you can Kiss him!"

Sherlock grinned impishly.

He jumped down from the chair and looked at John, John was sure he was meant to make another funny quip but none would come to mind.

"Shall we test it?"

"Hmm, what?" John replied not willing to admit that he had had a blank moment while staring at Sherlock

"The Mistletoe, we should test it I think, isn't that what people do in situations like this?"

John wondered when he had ever been in this situation before, had he ever shared a flat with a madman and then kissed said madman under mistletoe… he didn't think so.

While he had been thinking this Sherlock had leant in capturing Johns lips in a hesitant kiss.

things quickly got heated from there, each fighting for dominance,pushing up against each other, for more contact, Johns mind whirled he was kissing Sherlock, his flatmate, but he was with Sarah, totally with Sarah, so he most certainly should not have been kissing his flat mate, Was that him moaning like that, oh good heavens it was, he was going straight to hell!

Sherlock broke away breathing hard

"Oh there they were!" Sherlock said grabbing his coat and scarf and putting them on.

"W…What?" John asked slightly dazed, hadn't there been kissing going on a moment ago?"

"Come on John" Sherlock said thrusting a coat into John's hands, hands that a moment ago had been carding quite insistently through Sherlock's hair.

"What?" John said realising he was repeating himself but finding he didn't really care.

"Its been snowing quite consistently for the past few days, lets go and make a snowman better than the children down the road's snowman!"

and that John would later tell Mrs Hudson was how the snowball fight started!

**A/N: there we have it a nice Christmas-y chapter! with a kiss thrown in, let me know what you thought, my first even remote dabble into slash!**

**Happy holidays People!**


	9. Of snowmen Scrooge and Lounging

**Firstly a very Happy new year to you all!**

**Secondly, I was going to try and update this before Christmas but the muse decided it wanted a holiday and gave me a lovely gift on Christmas Day of a cold!**

**so My head has been Muzzy since then and every time I have tried to look at this and write its junta not cooperated, so my apologies, secondly all of you who wanted the toasties in this chapter will be disappointed as they will now not be till a later date!**

**Blame Sherlock he wasn't hungry! **

**Many thanks to all my awesome reviewers to whom I would not be as far along with this as I am!**

**To point out just a few:**

**Doctorjay: indeed what a wonderful Christmas tradition they have going there!**

**LittlePippin76: Yep Sleepy Sherlock is my favourite too! we may be seeing more of him as time goes on! and steamy kisses too!**

**XMillieX: I heard you all the way over here, and now without further ado here is more!**

**Operagoose: My dear! the prize for the longest reviews has to go to you! you make me laugh soo much with your reviews and your watching so here is the next chapter while my old Laptop boots up!**

**Verity Burns: I cannot believe how awesome you are, you have stuck with me through this and I'd just like to say Gracias, or Thank you!**

**Also 50 Reviews you guys honour me!**

**Disclaimer: A Christmas Carol does not belong to me, neither does Patrick Stuart, any likeness to person's living or dead is purely coincidental! Oh and beware the Toasties!**

***Bows and leaves the stage***

Chapter Nine: Of Snowmen, Scrooge and lounging.

When Sherlock had kissed him he had felt slightly, happy, was that even the right word? surely someone who was a happily straight very much in love/lust with his girlfriend, should not be happy that his strangely ethereally beautiful flatmate was kissing him.

Ethereally beautiful? when had he started thinking that Sherlock was Ethereally beautiful? a pain in the arse yes, but beautiful?

Before he could question his flatmate on the matter he had sped out of the door pulling on his jacket and sliding on the icy pavement.

John realised a little belatedly that his coat was hanging in his grasp and Sherlock had asked him to help with a snowman.

A snowman, the man had just quite literally kissed him senseless and then had raced off to make a snowman, he shook his head, Sherlock was really something else.

When he arrived in the small back garden of the house he smiled a little to himself, Sherlock was trying to push the snow together to form the body of the snowman.

He also appeared to have fallen down a few times, judging by the dusting of snow on his back, and John chuckled in spite of himself.

He went over to Sherlock and began to try and brush the snow off his back.

"It'll take you all day at that rate you know." He said conversationally.

"Well how do you suggest I start then?" Sherlock asked

"Snowball" Was John's answer.

"But thats anatomically incorrect"

"Its a snowman for heavens sake Sherlock, it doesn't need to be anatomically correct."

"You construct a snowman your way and I will construct mine my way, we could get Mrs Hudson to judge who's is better when we finish."

John wanted to say that that idea was childish, but Sherlock had already resumed scooping handfuls of snow together again, Sherlock didn't do anything that resembled normal very often so John decided to let this go and began heaping snow into a compact snowball before rolling it in the snow until he had a reasonably sized snowball to act act as the bottom of his snowman.

He was aware as he was rolling his second snowball that Sherlock was watching him intently.

"Yes? Was there something you wanted?"

Sherlock grinned at him but shook his head choosing instead to go back to his snowman, John was halfway through his snowman and Sherlock had barely started.

"Do you want me to give you a hand Sherlock, it'll get finished quicker if there are two of us"

"NO!" Sherlock snapped

"Ok, forget I said anything." John replied turning back to his own snowman and pulling out a bit of snow here and there.

)))))))))

When Mrs Hudson returned home after a bit of last minute shopping she dropped the shopping bags in the living room and went to make herself a nice cup of tea, the sight out of her kitchen window was something she would never forget, John was making what appeared to be final adjustments to a huge snowman that was taller than he was, and Sherlock seemed to be using a trowel to sculpt his snow heap, as that was what it appeared to be at the moment, just a heap of compacted snow.

John however saw her and waved at her, she waved back and held up a mug to which he nodded.

Mrs Hudson set about preparing tea for the boys and herself, if they were lucky there may even be some ginger biscuits somewhere around here.

((((

Once Sherlock had finished his masterpiece, he accepted the mug of tea handed to him by John, before watching John walk indoors to warm himself by the nearest radiator.

"Well Mrs Hudson what do you think?"

She looked at the snow person because person it had to be, it bore a striking resemblance to Doctor Watson, right down to the cable knit sweater he was wearing right at that moment.

"Well Dear its very artistic." Mrs Hudson said, admiring the snow sculpture of John from all directions.

"Artistic?" he replied voice rising slightly.

"Well, yes it is, you seem to have created a snow person"

"Its a full scale John Watson, anyone with eyes could see that Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock said petulantly.

"Well its a very good model of Doctor Watson Sherlock, but why are you making him out of snow?"

Sherlock shrugged, He didn't really know why he had made a John Watson out of snow when he had the real John Watson to do with as he liked.

"What do you think of John's Snow-thing Mrs Hudson?"

"Well it's a little more seasonal isn't it?"

"Seasonal?" Sherlock parroted So she valued John's snow-thing because it was seasonal and His was worth nothing. What did she know anyway, she wouldn't know genius if it bit her on the bottom with its sharp pointy teeth.

"Yes dear, your Snow sculpture is all very well Sherlock but John's is rather more in keeping with the season."

"Bugger the season" Sherlock muttered under his breath"

"Sorry dear?"

"Vulgar season" he said quickly with a grin.

Mrs Hudson shook her head "and here I was thinking John was the one who hated the season Sherlock, he's obviously been rubbing off on you."

"More than you'd care to imagine Mrs Hudson." Sherlock said taking a gulp of tea.

"Thats nice dear, just mind you don't catch cold out here, I'm going in, its far too cold for my hip out here"

Sherlock looked back at his snow sculpture of John, he had been soo adamant that Mrs Hudson would see how much better than John's stupid excuse for a snow person his was.

He admired the Snow John for a few moments more before decimating it, it would only melt in a few days anyway.

Trudging up to the flat he found John sitting in his usual chair watching the tv.

"Sit down and I'll make some dinner if you what some?" John said not taking his eyes from the screen.

"I'm not hungry. Was Sherlock's terse reply.

"Did Mrs Hudson judge correctly?"

"If you mean did she pick mine then no, I'm sorry to disappoint you, she chose your sorry excuse for a person."

"it wasn't a sorry excuse, if you look and see along the road most people have those sorry excuses in their gardens."

"Well they all lack imagination then don't they." Sherlock replied acerbicly

"I'm not even going to bother Sherlock, because you're trying to bait me and I don't want to argue, I want to sit here and watch this film"John replied illustrating his point by making himself that little bit more comfortable.

Sherlock slumped on the sofa "I thought you were going to cook dinner"

"Well if you're not eating then I don't see why I should."

"Touche" Sherlock replied "what utter rubbish are you watching?" Sherlock asked watching a bald man talking to what appeared to be a ghost wearing a chinstrap and chains.

"A Christmas carol, the Patrick Stuart version, its the best one"

"Is this the one with those puppet things that children seem to enjoy watching so much?"

"No this isn't the Muppets Christmas Carol" John replied.

"Well I suppose I could endure it"

John snorted in amusement. "Endure it? Anyone would think I was holding a gun to your temple and making you watch it, you could always do something else you know"

Sherlock contemplated that last comment, He could do something else could he, very well.

He went into the kitchen and took a look at what they had in the cupboards he had most things but was missing a few so he strode out of the flat and downstairs.

John heard him go and shouted to him "If your going out milk would be a nice idea!" He received no reply and debated texting him but his thought train was interrupted by the tv.

He must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing he heard was Patrick Stuart laughing, he cracked open a bleary eye to find that the movie was almost finished, and that he was not where he had been when he fell asleep.

He was on the sofa and Sherlock was curled around him narrowly avoiding falling off the sofa entirely, one of Sherlock's long fingered hands was fisted into John's Jumper and the other clutched a rather misshapen mince pie, the smell of baking filled the flat.

He didn't remember falling asleep on the sofa, nor did he remember baking anything

"Sherlock…" he mumbled.

"Not the dog, the dog didn't do it it was the budgie"

"Of course it was Sherlock" John replied stifling a laugh. he extricated himself carefully from the consulting detective's grip and levered himself of the sofa.

A cuppa would go down a treat about now.

He entered the kitchen and gaped.

Covering every surface were plates and plates of Mince pies. there must have been about twelve plates, all piled with at least ten mince pies per plate.

Sherlock was woken by John's cry of disbelief, he padded to the kitchen and ran a hand through his hair

"What is it?"

"What the hell…" John began pointing in the general direction of most of the plates.

"Well you said I could do something." Sherlock replied.

"Not turn our flat into a Christmas bakery though!"

"Oh" sherlock replied "Well i could just…" he began picking up a plate and heading towards the bin.

"No you don't, it just means that you'll be eating them until their gone"

"Now, you want me to eat them all?"

"Not now you'd be sick! But you can start by freezing them"

Sherlock looked guilty

"Fine ok so we can't put them in the freezer how about giving some to Mrs Hudson, and Mrs Turner, Lestrade, Sally, Anderson, Molly"

Sherlock looked up at John through his lashes, and John wondered, not for the first time, what Sherlock was thinking.

it was soon clear when a mince pie came hurtling through the air and landed square in the middle of John's forehead.

"Perfect aim" Sherlock mused.

And that they would tell Mrs Hudson was how the mince pie fight started.

**A/N" ok there was no kiss in this chapter I'm slightly disappointed but there was snuggling and mince pie baking, so I hope that makes up for it!**

**I hope you all have a fab 2011 and keep watch for the next instalment of this story!**

**GEFAF!**


	10. Chapter ten Of Hospitals and Silence

**Here we are Chapter Ten**

**Once again a huge thank you to all that have Reviewed!**

**especially to:**

**ds9julian thank you for just finding this fic and reviewing it means a lot to me!**

**to the rest of you, you know how awesome you are, you know this I don't need to tell you but whilst you Balance on your heads after this chapter has been read take heed of that little button saying review because it is feeling pretty lonely down there so go cheer it up and review!**

**again a little bit of angst in this chapter dunno where it's coming from, well maybe I do My cat who is like my baby got attacked by another brute of a cat tonight (just a few moments ago to tell the truth) and that horrid cat looks like it got one of it's teeth right through her back leg near her paw so I think it's going to be a vet trip tomorrow :(**

**anyway onwards!**

**Mentions of Rape, Drug use and Self harm be warned**

**Disclaimer:**

**Don't own! that is all!**

***Bows and Leaves the stage***

Chapter Ten: Of hospitals and Silence.

John had been busy in the surgery when he had got the text from Sherlock.

_Come home now, Urgent. SH._

He had read the text but ignored it, even going so far as to turn the phone off and sip it into his desk drawer.

it was late February and it was just starting to warm up a little, since Christmas and the 'kiss' John had taken to staying away from the flat as much as possible, Sarah had broken it off with him in January when he had snapped at her, how could he apologise? she had asked where he wanted to go for dinner and he had just lost it. What was he meant to say? 'Sorry but currently I seem to be having really x rated thoughts about Sherlock my very male flatmate but hey lets go for a curry'

They had parted as friends, but he still hadn't brought up the fact that he was lusting after Sherlock with Sarah, the last thing he wanted was a 'girly night in' with a bottle of wine and a rom-com he didn't think he was that far lost just yet, or maybe he was and he wasn't willing to admit it, Sarah would never know.

Speak of the devil he thought as Sarah's head popped round the door of his office

"John I was just wondering if you wanted to go and grab something for lunch with me, not like that of course, but I'm famished and we could chat about the new locum he's a bit…"

"Naff?" John ventured

She laughed and nodded.

"Ok, let me just get my coat" he stood and grabbed his coat from the back of the door before shutting it on the office and walking out of the practice with Sarah alongside him.

As they entered the restaurant, just a fifteen minute walk from the surgery, John noticed the cctv in the road following him so in an act of petulance he stuck his tongue out in the general direction of the most cameras.

They were half way through their main course when John noticed a black car pull up outside.

"Damn"

"Is something the matter with the food John?" Sarah asked concerned.

"No the food's great, i just think i have to go… really soon" John replied seeing 'not Anthea' walk into the restaurant and shoo away the waiter.

She appeared at their table holding their wine bottle

"I don't think we ordered that" Sarah said

"We didn't no, who are you today?" he said the last bit of the sentence was aimed at 'Not Anthea'

she smiled.

"Florence perhaps, or Marie"

"Thinking of a career in Medicine are you? John replied acidly

She smiled back at him, one of her serene vacant smiles and fished out her blackberry, read something quickly and then turned to John.

"Ah Doctor Watson, I think you had better come with me" she said as if only just realising he was there.

"No, I think he's going to stay right where he is and finish his dinner!"

'Oh god' John thought, 'Sarah's turning into Mrs Hudson,' he could see it now, another twenty five years and Sarah would have a nice ground floor flat and would be renting the flat upstairs to two bloke's who may or may not have made up their minds as to what they were in relation to each other.

"It's fine Sarah, Florence…"

'Not Anthea' shook her head

"… Marie is an old friend of mine."

"Really an old friend who calls you doctor Watson, I'm having trouble believing that John."

"Fine you want the truth, She's Mycroft's Secretary, and Mycroft is Sherlock's brother, He works in the government"

"Not today" 'Marie' said in a bored tone.

"CIA?"

A shake of the head.

"Secret service?"

A curt nod.

"Oh good" John replied sarcastically "Well you can tell Mycroft that I will come and see him after my sift has ended."

"Consider your shift over Doctor Watson."

John shot a despairing look at Sarah and picked up his coat "Sorry" he said to Sarah "I really have to go"

"Not a problem, it seems working with you is like working with Clark Kent"

He grinned "Oh you don't know the half of it." he replied following 'Marie' out to the black car.

"Doctor Watson" began Mycroft as John sat in the back of the black car.

"What is so important that you've taken me from dinner to tell me?" John asked.

"It's Sherlock…"

"Is it about the experiments or the eating again, if It's about the eating then I am trying, but you know how stubborn he is"

Mycroft nodded and John noticed that the man looked older somehow.

"What is it?" John asked face falling.

"Sherlock has been admitted to St Bartholomew's, it seems he took an overdose and slit his wrists."

"What?" john asked hardly unable to let the words process.

"He was found on the floor of the flat you share with him, a syringe sticking out of his arm and one wrist slashed."

"Can I…"

"Yes of course, that is why I am here, to escort you to St Bartholomew's"

"Escort me?"

"Yes John, I find its much easier to get about when you don't have to worry about speeding fines, don't you?"

"Oh of course" He replied settling for staring out of the window instead of sending a glare Mycroft's way.

0000-0000-0000-0000

Sherlock was bored He was sitting here on a hospital bed, the mattress was too lumpy and the pillow was too smooth. He hoped John had gotten his message, he wanted to go home now and continue his research.

He had just got to a pivotal stage in a cold case, where a woman had her wrists slashed, was beaten and raped and afterward been made to take an overdose. She had made a recovery and just a scant 24 hours later had murdered her attackers.

So far he had deduced that she had to have been a nurse or a doctor and have a hugh level of resistance to narcotic substances from a possible previous addiction. but he was missing something, he hadn't been beaten to within an inch of his life, nor had he bandaged himself up he had left that to the nurses of St Bart's, after such a long period of abstinence drug wise he had miscalculated the amount he would need, one moment he was siting on the living room floor high as a kite thinking it was a fabulous idea to slash his own wrist, 'such fun' he had thought and then he had woken up in the back of an ambulance.

That was a variable he hadn't taken into account, had the woman thought the same thing as he had, that it was the best idea in the history of good ideas to slash her wrists, that it was fun.

He shuddered, he was no novice when it came to self harm, but now, he would never, John would never forgive him if he ilea himself.

"John" He suddenly said out loud. He had told John to come home, told him it was urgent and that was it.

He rummaged around in his trouser pockets for his phone but he couldn't find it, had it been in his hands when he had passed out? He couldn't remember. One thing was for sure it wasn't in his trouser pockets.

"Damn!"

"…Through here Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson."

'Oh dear' Was all Sherlock's brain could supply, for once the rest of him was in total agreement, oh dear indeed.

0000-0000-0000-0000

John had been prepared for the worst when he entered the cubicle, what he had not been prepared for was Sherlock standing up form the bed fully dressed and saying.

"Shall we go then John" as if he had merely popped into the hospital to have stitches removed.

"Shall we… WHAT?" John exploded "Shall we just keep taking John Watson for a mug, shall we, would that be fun Sherlock? because it bloody well must be the amour of times you do it!"

Mycroft Grabbed 'Marie' by the arm and muttered his goodbyes but neither man heard him.

"Of course not John I was Just…"

"No Sherlock, damn it no, you can't tell me half truths any more, you just can't What the hell were you doing slitting your wrist and overdosing? Did you even think about what you were putting us all through?"

How dare he! thought Sherlock how dare he push the blame back! "Putting you all through? Mycroft only cares because he promised Mummy, and you, well it's in your nature to care isn't it? and I can't tell you half truths, Really John who said I was even telling you anything resembling the truth?"

John took a step back as if he had been hit, as if Sherlock's words were a visible blow.

"Right, I'm sorry I thought for a moment that I was speaking to Sherlock holes My flat mate, when he gets back will you tell him I popped in"

"John John John, When will you learn I don't ned your pity or your friendship, I just need someone to talk at, someone who'll make me a cup of tea occasionally and keep me fed.

John cursed himself he had thought they were friends, with the opportunity to be more, he had been wrong as per usual.

"Oh now don't tell me you're thinking about that sorry excuse for a kiss John" Sherlock replied looking at his nails to avoid meeting John's eyes.

"No" John replied blushing.

"Oh please John don't misunderstand me it was vaguely pleasurable, well… in some respects, but I was just insuring that you would remain with me for a little longer, and you did, so obedient weren't you?"

"Well you can find yourself another flatmate Sherlock, I have tried to look after you and I have tried to make you more sociable, but I've had it I'm going home I'm packing and I'm leaving."

"Oh bravo the heartbroken Little war veteran, have a nice life Johnny Boy" Sherlock replied with a smirk.

John opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying "Drop Dead" He was fully aware of how childish it sounded but was at a loss to say anything else more cutting.

he spun on his heels and walked out of the cubicle. Silence followed him

0000-0000-0000-0000

Sherlock sighed, he had hated every moment of that. Somewhere in the cubicle a mobile chimed with an incoming text, Sherlock searched for it and found it under the duvet on the hospital bed.

He opened the text.

_Bravo, very believable, but too bad I'm still going to burn the heart out of him, even if he doesn't feel the same for you, he's still your heart no matter what._

_It's your move My dear Sherlock._

_M_

**A/N: there we are a nice angst chapter, were you confused? Yeah me too! it was going one way and then it went this way, tell me what you think? Please?**

**thank you's!**

**Fae xx**


	11. Chapter eleven: Of Packing

**A/N: first off i'd just like to say sorry to all of you who have reviewed saying that It was bad for Sherlock to do what he has just done.**

**It was an integral part of the story guys!**

**this Chapter is mostly John, enjoy!**

**Thank you's and Shout outs go to the following:**

OperaGoose**: it was totally unpardonable of me to forget you in the mentions in the last chapter, I wasn't with it, but I am now so will all the readers please be upstanding for the right honourable Operagoose!**

VerityBurns**:my dear you keep coming back for more even thought the site does not seem to want to tell you have new Chapters up, thank you for your battles with the site it makes me feel fuzzy inside! :D the cat is much better after the trip to the vets and the bill of 92 euro made her owner feel a little faint!**

LittlePippin76 **Well I'm glad you do as this was not where I wanted the story to go… Oh well**

XMillieX **Indeed we do, but unluckily (for us!) Sherlock has the only Genuine John on the planet so the rest of us may just have to enter into some sort of a barter system with him.**

ds9julian **I'm glad you're enjoying the twists, because they are keeping me guessing too! Its terrible when a writer knows less than the characters do! **

Arrienete ** I love your name btw! also Welcome! It has indeed gotten dark incredibly quickly, as to where its going I have no clue! ask the boys though they seem to know more than I do about this, I'm glad you are still with this motley crew! we do appreciate it!**

**Right I think thats all the shootouts covered, if I have missed you out please PM me and let me know, thats what Operagoose did and she got a shout out this chapter!**

**So if you have taken up position, sitting on your favourite chair, bed, rug, table, work desk, out a window or even on your head (and if you are on your head do be careful and try not to mix it with hanging out the window at the same time, recipe for disaster in my opinion!) Then we can begin!**

**Here is chapter eleven!**

***Bows and leaves the stage***

Chapter Eleven: Of Packing.

In later years, when he would come to try and remember his return to Baker Street, he would say he got in a taxi, and that he could remember little else. He had walked sightlessly out of the hospital and held his hand out automatically. Opened the door of the cab and got in all without really seeing.

Once he was inside the cabs warm interior he came back to himself a little, and watched as the hospital disappeared into the distance.

"b…Baker Street please." His voice stumbled over the words, as if loath to say them, "221b Baker Street" he said a little more audibly.

The cabbie said nothing just drove, and John was glad of the silence, in the silence he could think.

He needed to get home and pack, he needed to get away for a while, somewhere that Sherlock couldn't affect him.

Where would that be though?

He still had Harry's small flat somewhere up north that he could go to.

Sherlock's words shouldn't' have hurt him, they shouldn't have even made him angry, but then again Sherlock shaped thoughts shouldn't be running around his mind all the time.

Thoughts about pushing the lanky detective up against the hallway wall and kissing him so that he was as dazed as John often felt when around him would keep the doctor tossing and turning in his bed at night.

Daytimes John would constantly worry about Sherlock's eating habits, something that he was sure he had never been so obsessed with before.

So it was understandable that the good doctor was a little upset.

"Enough" he sad in a whisper.

"You want out here mate?"

"No, thank you." John replied tersely.

The cabbie nodded "orite you just tell me if you change your mind."

John nodded back knowing full well the cabbie could see him.

He would go up north for a while, he wasn't due a holiday, Sarah would probably fire him if he just left, but explaining would be so much worse.

How could he tell Sarah why he needed to go away when he himself wasn't sure how to phrase it in his own head.

He clenched his fists and slammed them down hard on the seat, how could he leave and go and live normally after this?

He wished his sister was still around, she would have understood, she would have talked to him until he was calmer, she would have stamped on all his fears and told him to keep his chin up, she would have been the big sister of old that would scare away the nightmares.

Things must be bad if he was beginning to romanticise his alcoholic dead sister!

He unclenched his fists and smoothed his hands over his eyes, if he didn't go up north what could he do?

His limp was gone, he could always go back in the army.

No, Mycroft would probably make sure his application never got through the preliminary checks.

North it was then, and if Mycroft wanted to tell Sherlock where he was then so be it, he didn't care.

Arriving outside the place he had called home was the most terrible experience in John's life, he half expected to see Sherlock staring out of the window deep in thought, he longed to see that half smile light up the consulting detective's face, the small half smile he only used when John arrived home after a day at work.

He fitted the key in the lock and walked up to the flat on shaky legs.

The sight of the living room floor made his stomach turn.

there were droplets of blood evenly spaced, as if the person had ben walking in a circle, but by the window was a bigger expose of blood as if the person, as if Sherlock, had slumped down and passed out, which in all likelihood was what he had done.

"Stupid Man!" John muttered to himself, why hadn't Sherlock text him and told him what was going on?

John grinned and wondered if he himself was going mad. He tried to look for his phone, before realising he'd left it at the surgery, he hunted for Sherlock's phone , finding it on the ashes of the previous nights fire, ad scrolled through the texts.

_New head for you Sherlock?_

_Mollyx _

_New case, will you help? GL_

_We need your help GL_

_Honestly, you could try and make his life a little easier MH_

_Doctor Watson,_

_Went to the hospital_

_In a shower of pain_

_he stepped on a… Well its up to you my dearest, but _

_never was he seen again._

_M x_

So Moriarty was planning to kill him, well hadn't that always been an issue?

Sherlock had told him that he meant nothing, that it was all so as he stayed, surely Moriarty wasn't a problem to him any more, he was no longer Sherlock's heart.

He dropped the phone as if it had burnt him and ran up the stairs to his room.

His suitcase was under his bed and he hauled it out, pulling things from the wardrobe and shoving them in to the case haphazardly, he didn't think he had long, if he left within the next twenty minutes then Moriarty may still be occupied with gloating over Sherlock's utter defeat to worry about John.

Sherlock's mobile downstairs beeped, an incoming text.

"Shit" John hissed he began to pack furiously, he now had fifteen minutes at the best. if he could get away and somehow let Sherlock know he was alright, or even let Mycroft know, the brothers for all their moaning about each other, they did care about each other.

Case packed with the essentials he headed downstairs, he caught sight of his laptop and an idea hit him.

When he had been in school his science teacher had taught them how to write hidden messages with lemon juice, they didn't' have any lemon but John did have a laptop and sherlock's email address, it would be easy, write something in black and then change the font colour to white for what he really wanted to say, it would be a way of letting Sherlock know where he was going, what he was doing.

he began to type.

**Sherlock, **

**By the time you get this I will be gone, don't try and look for me you've got your wish, I am gone. You once told me everything was black and white, I disagreed, now I agree, everything is indeed in black…. Or white.**

**I will make sure to settle the rent with Mrs Hudson.**

**John Watson.**

He left what appeared to be a few blank lines after he had written his name, he knew what those two blank lines meant, sighing he sent the message, he had spent far to long here already.

Picking up his case he took a moment to look at the flat, imprinting the image in his mind, searing it there, just in case.

he walked down the seventeen steps and out into the drab London afternoon.

He headed for the underground station, he would get the tube to Waterloo and then the Victoria line to Kings Cross, taking the first train to Edinburgh. He could stay with some old friends for a while as staying at Harry's flat was now out of the question.

he took a quick look at Baker Street before he got pulled along with the throng of holidaymakers and Londoners all eager to get the next tube away, he bid his life a fond farewell hoping as he got onto the tube that it would not be exile for good.

**A/N: there you are, a little short, but I have the flu, again! (Seriously It decided to make an appearance yesterday evening) but you will be getting chapter 12 as soon as it has been written, fr all of you who like a good tweet follow me on twitter, check my profile for details!**


	12. Chapter 12 Of Solitude

**A/N: hello all! and welcome to the 12th chapter in this exciting story!**

**this is a chapter from Sherlock's point of view, so goodness knows what its going to be like…. I apologise in advance**

**to all of you who read my one shot 'Holiday' thank you for following this as well! it means a lot!**

**to all of you who read but don't review…..**

**You thought I was going to go Caps lock on you didn't you? not me, I'm terrible about reviewing so thank you for taking time out to read this at least.**

**now on to the shout outs (not shootouts as I think I said in the previous chapter, do not be alarmed all of the authors that I mentioned are still very much alive and unharmed…. I think!)**

**VerityBurns: You really are quite something! sticking with me all this time, I'm much better now thanks to the power of your fic, yep the fic healed me, she's a miracle worker with fic! and they may well be home soon, but they might not, and to think this started of as crack!Fic**

**XMillieX : I can't wait to see where I take this either because I have no clue, not one, and just between me you and all of those other people that read authors notes I prefer it that way, but shh don't tell anyone!**

**ds9julian: Thank you for your lovely comments and continued support through the course of this fiction it really is wonderful!**

**17: ahh well you won't find out in this chapter, I'm evil like that I know but the truth is I'm just not sure until I write the next chapter what will happen…. he may or he may not!**

**Arrienete: Ohh I love reviews like yours! I love my readers to be surprised and I had to go back and watch the whole three episodes of Sherlock to get a version of the lovely Jim that I was happy with so I'm glad you thought he was alright! and you too my dear I really value you taking time to give me such wonderful reviews!**

**Operagoose: Well my dear do I really need to instil your virtues to anyone here, they only need to check the reviews to see that you, like dear Verity have been a constant from the beginning and I adore you for it!**

**Right Disclaimer, not mine, never will be…**

**onwards all of you, and please don't send doctors bills to me for neck trouble as an alarming number of you may or may not read this on your heads (do be careful, I worry about all of you!)**

Chapter twelve: Of Solitude.

The first think the great Sherlock Holmes noticed when he returned home was the blood by the window, damn that would invariably mean a new carpet, or…

"John, John there's some of my dried blood down here…" He called to his flatmate.

He was answered by the oppressive silence of the flat that seemed to laugh and jeer at him, 'where is you're gallant doctor now, he's left you alone.'

Sherlock put on the television to drown out the silence.

It was not the rent that had made him search for a flatmate, no he could afford the rent easily enough even if he did no work, thanks to the trust fund his father had set up for him.

The reason he had wanted a flatmate was to ward of the silence.

The reason he wanted John Watson was that even when the man was not there he… _remained _ his being had permeated the flat until it wasn't just full of old deductions floating in the air, but talk of bond, and rugby, food, and comfy cable knit jumpers. No other flatmate had ever managed to make his presence known in such a comforting way, John's presence, was something safe, somewhere that Sherlock's brain was able to rest in, relish in even.

Now he was gone, the silence would come back.

the emptiness.

He hadn't lied that first evening in the cab, when he had told John that most people told him to 'piss off' John had, in the past year and a bit, become someone that would not tell him to piss off, he would give him one of his, 'Sherlock i'm not best pleased with you at the moment' looks and that would be it, they would be back to their usual selves.

But, Sherlock reasoned, He had coped without John before he knew that there was a John shaped hole missing in his life and he would cope without John now he knew of the man's existence.

He would be glad to be rid of him, He had always been moaning about Sherlock's habit of not eating properly, would always have cup soups in his pocket ready to whip out and make. the dependable doctor, pah! how sickening.

He was a free man, He could decide if he ate or not. He could decide if he wanted to sleep or not, he would have no-one nagging him to do anything, or to remove experiments to better more suited locations.

Why did that make him feel, upset, oh that was new, he hadn't been upset in quite some time, he was sure that when he had last experienced this emotion he hadn't liked it one bit, he liked it even less now.

He noticed his phone lying on the desk, next to his laptop, he hadn't left his phone there he had put it in the fire so he would remember where it was, John always detested him using his phone.

he picked the phone up and scrolled through the messages, Molly, signed with a kiss, he sighed and muttered the word desperate under his breath. texts from Lestrade were deleted without a second glance, ahh, one from an unknown number, Jim. Sherlock smiled as he read the text, how childish using a nursery rhyme to try and grab his attention Jim really was loosing his touch.

it was then he noticed that his laptop was on, the lid was down but it was still on.

John had been here packed, and decided to check his emails? no why would he do that if he was leaving, and why would he spend valuable time hacking into Sherlock's computer if he was trying to get away from Jim? it didn't add up.

He had just sat down at his laptop to see why John had thought it necessary to use his laptop when he had a decent enough one of his own that was lying on the coffee table, when his mobile rung.

He picked it up without looking at the caller ID

"I haven't time for petty conversation Mycroft" he said.

"No I should imagine not brother," he could almost hear Mycroft shaking his head in disapproval "It is so hard for you to find decent person's to live with these days Sherlock I would think that you would want to keep them as long as possible not push them away."

" What would you know of living with someone, you never have" Sherlock said sneering.

"Now Sherlock you know how mummy hated it when you made that particular face, it is no good moping about the flat, in fact…"

"Busy" sherlock replied opening word document on his desktop that hadn't been there before, the page was blank so he deleted it.

"We both know that is a lie"

"Do we?" Sherlock replied tersely.

"I'm trying to…"

"Help?" Sherlock spat back the word distasteful and sour. "I don't need your help Mycroft, I can handle this on my own."

"Yes yes" Mycroft replied in a bored tone "I've heard that so many times from you brother, I can handle the addiction, I can handle the eating, I can handle the self inflicted insomnia." He sighed "You cannot handle those things on your own Sherlock thats why you needed John, he's going to Scotland on the next train from Kings cross, if your lucky you may catch him."

"`You're wrong, I don't need him."

With a sigh Mycroft terminated the call. His brother may not think he needed John Watson, but the fact of the matter was, he did.

((((((((((((((((((((

Sherlock didn't move from the sofa for two days, and then he only moved because Lestrade asked for him.

arriving at the scene of the crime he saw the look that Sally gave him, it was a look torn between pity and revulsion. He did nothing but sneer at her, because he refused to admit he was moping about the fact that John had left.

Anderson was a different matter, he wanted to pitch Anderson down the stairs so that every bone in his body broke, and when he was lying cowering with his broken bones Sherlock wanted to yell at him yell at him for John's exit.

he did none of these things, but he did step on Anderson's toes as he was ascending to the scene, it was comforting to hear the hiss of pain the man made.

He wondered if this was the man that the absence of John would make him become, but that was silly, John had left of his own free will, to save himself. He looked round at the crime scene and gleaned all he could, telling Lestrade what he needed and left, there was no-one there who cared about his deductions now, no-one who thought they were brilliant.

If he were a soppy excuse for a human, like on those Jeremy Kyle chat shows, he would most probably sit at home crying for a fair amount of time before going out and finding a new…. well whatever John was.

He didn't have time to analyse what John was, at that point in time John was an inconvenience, the insufferable man was taking up too much of the space needed for thinking.

If John wanted to walk out then he could it wasn't a problem.

The part of his mind that was attuned to 'John' however, begged to differ.

Arriving back at Baker St to an empty flat had never really bothered Sherlock before. now it was horrible, the place was too quiet.

In his minds eye however scenes played over and over on a loop, Christmas, putting up decorations, the kiss, trying to clean a lightbulb by licking it and then licking his flatmate, John in the kitchen making tea while he, Sherlock, tried hard not to doze on the sofa. John moaning about him playing the violin in the early morning.

Shaking himself bodily from these memories he sat down in front of his laptop. and checked his emails.

**From: John Watson.**

**To: Sherlock Holmes.**

**Subject: not all black or White.**

**Sherlock, **

**By the time you get this I will be gone, don't try and look for me you've got your wish, I am gone. You once told me everything was black and white, I disagreed, now I agree, everything is indeed in black…. Or white.**

**I will make sure to settle the rent with Mrs Hudson.**

**John Watson.**

He looked at the email a few more times and was about to delete it when he looked at the subject line.

**not all black or White.**

John was fastidious about his Grammar, Spelling and Punctuation, why would he put all the other words in lower case and then the w in upper case? It didn't make sense, although he was angry, Sherlock had made him angry, upset and more, but John would never be so deliberatly lax.

He would never get John Watson back now, he, Sherlock was the worst type of person imaginable, John was the best sort of friend he had ever had. And in his stupidity he had sought to save him by hurting him.

Sherlock looked at the email again.

Why bring up something that they had argued over months ago? it had been a petty argument, but why bring it up…

A cypher it had to be, Oh his John was clever!

he tried every sort of cypher he knew and nothing.

Not a cypher then.

Black or white, why did those words stick out in his head like the proverbial sore thumb? Surely it should have been black and white.

Black, or White. Sherlock smirked and then highlighted the email.

_Sherlock. Gone to stay at Harrys, I understand, keep yourself safe please. I need to know that you will be safe, no contact until we know its safe. I forgive you and knew you meant the opposite of what you said at the hospital. When I get back we will talk. John x_

Sherlock felt a lightness that he hadn't felt in the past three days, everything was going to be alright.

Well he still had to worry about Moriarty and getting John back, and the dreaded 'talk' but other than that things were looking a lot better than they had doe three days ago.

but what did that x mean on the end of the mail?

that was something to ponder.

**A/N yes its short again but we have Lestrade's point of view for the next chapter so that should be longer, and I am going straight into writing that now! **

**thankyou, and remember press that little button down there and review!**

Fae


	13. Chapter 13 Lestrade & Mycroft

**Authors Notes: Hello Lovelies! Well things are hotting up in some respects for Sherlock and John, or should that be cooling down?**

**Who knows!**

**Ah yes I hear you yelling that I should know as I happen to be writing the thing, but I've not got a clue, so we're all in the same boat. Hope that makes you feel better… maybe?**

**Remember right at the start when this was light and humorous, what in the name of goodness happened? Oh yes James Moriarty happened! **

**This story is on the wind down now after this chapter you have maybe two or three chapters left until we say goodbye to the boys.**

**It makes me very sad that this story is almost over as once its over I have no clue if i'll write anything more in the Sherlock fandom.**

**Anyway before I get sentimental onwards with the shout outs:**

***Operagoose*: you know I adore you and thank you for the constant prodding and help and just general fun ness that you made this chapter, it would still be unfinished if you hadn't given me the virtual prod I needed. so THANK YOU!**

***ds9julian*: Thank you my dear! I hope you enjoy this chapter and I threw in a bonus in this chapter, you get two POV's just because I love my reviewers (and because this story leads and I follow)**

***Arrienete*: Ha! I thought I'd throw that bit in to see what my reviewers would think! (yeah ok authoress is owning up to not having a clue what was going on in the last chapter but shh!) and Yes the flat share bit , I just looked at sherlock and thought he's got expensive clothes and yet he's living somewhere like 221b why? and came up with that explanation thank you for enjoying this!**

***Darknexus 17* Ha ha the calm before the storm, possibly, and yes Mycroft is just a bit awesome really, although halfway through this chapter you may not think so…. thats all I'm saying so read on!**

***Verity* my dear! you wanted it so here is more! and thank you soo much for sticking with me! you are made of awesome! onwards my dear!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own! Honest if i did I wouldn't be sitting here writing I'd be making sure the next series aired quicker!**

**Now then you lovely people onwards to the chapter goodness! Commence standing on your heads (because really to be honest I can't stop you from here can I?) for chapter Thirteen!**

***bows and leaves the stage***

Chapter Thirteen: Lestrade & Mycroft.

God it had been a hellish day, was Greg Lestrade's first thought as he entered his house. He wouldn't say no to a beer if it danced around him provocatively, and after the day he'd had he thought that the beer may very well do that.

Or on second thoughts it could just sit provocatively in the fridge, that would also be ok.

Another teenager murdered. this time a boy, sixteen years old, and Sherlock, well Sherlock had always treated the dead as important for their deaths, not for who they were, but today was something else entirely, it was like he wasn't there. Greg passed a hand over his eyes as if wishing to wipe away the memory of the teen face down in his own blood.

He padded to the kitchen in search of a beer and something edible that wasn't yesterdays take away.

When he had been young he hadn't wanted to be an officer of the law, he had wanted to be a jockey and ride horses for a living. As he grew up and gained weight and hight it was obvious that his dream of being the jockey riding the winning horse had been blown away like cobwebs in a dusty house.

it wasn't until he had left school that he thought about his future, he hadn't come out of school with great grades, and so he began looking round for jobs that would take him, he worked as a bricky, a labourer, even a waiter but they were just bolt holes that kept the money coming in They weren't what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, because sometimes when he would come home to his small bedsit he would open a bottle of cheap spirit and dream about fast horses and racetracks, of the adrenalin rush.

It was when the building site that he was working on, (a new block of flats) had a visit from the police (the site manager wasn't exactly a model citizen) that he had a lightbulb moment. the pay on the building site wasn't brilliant, and women loved men in uniform, before the week was out he had handed in his notice, received his P45 and started to make inquires into how to become a police officer.

He worked up the ranks slowly and silently, learning, observing, all to make himself available

He had made himself a comfortable position as DI, he was well respected, well respected until he had met Sherlock Holmes.

Meeting Sherlock Holmes when he had been coming down of a drug high was quite a scary sight, the man had looked like he hadn't changed his clothes for days, or shaved yet he had solved a case, and then just waltzed off. he had been the most wonderful person that had ever existed in Greg's eyes, he had been working on this case for weeks and here was a young twenty something man who had solved the whole thing in five seconds flat.

(((((((((((((((((((

Sherlock had shied away from emotion for so long, his brother Mycroft mused, that it was a wonder he hadn't had a breakdown with John in the flat.

John with his cups of tea and dinner, and among other things his compassion and caring nature, John who was currently in Scotland so as Sherlock would be safe. Mycroft was sure that John knew if anything would hurt Sherlock after all these years of keeping his emotions guarded then it would be John being in harms way.

he had made sure the good doctor got a seat on the train, that was all he could, would do.

He cared for his brother, but he knew that he sometimes tread a fine line between care and smothering his brother.

He just hoped he had done enough.

He stared at the laptop in front of him and reviewed the email from John to his brother, so they would talk when John got back, that was an interesting prospect.

Mycroft had never seen someone that could hold his brother's attention as well as John could. He smiled to himself and took a sip of the whiskey in front of him, a present from the president of the U.S for services rendered.

It was a happy coincidence that He was here and not in his brother's shoes.

But that as his P.A would say was a tale for another day.

He minimised the email and watched his brother pace around the flat he shared with Doctor Watson.

Sherlock had his hands in his hair, every now and again tugging at it, and packing in concentric circles. It was something Mycroft hadn't seen his brother do since he was a child, and that was over their father's illness, Sherlock had paced and paced and pawed at his hair trying to find a solution.

Mycroft hoped for his brother's sake he could find a solution this time.

He watched his brother pick op his mobile and text someone, Mycroft suspected it was Gregory Lestrade, the DI.

So his brother would rather take on a work problem than his own, it made sense, Sherlock was not used to this sort of a problem, though to be fair Mycroft suspected he wouldn't want to deal with things if he were in Sherlock's shoes. after all in the past year his little brother had let someone into his life, been forced to show he cared for that someone after the Moriarty debacle at the pool kissed that said someone, and then have Moriarty threaten to snuff out His heart, aka that special someone known as John Watson.

His poor brother.

He picked up his phone and punched speed-dial

"Welcome to the human race" he said before putting the phone down.

He grinned at the shocked face his brother made on the laptop screen before hitting speed-dial again.

"Bring DI Lestrade in would you, and make sure he's kept busy until I am free, after all if Sherlock desires a case, then maybe he needs to learn that he has one in front of his nose without going to the police."

He hit the end call button and minimised the surveillance on the screen, instead bringing up his email inbox.

New Message to a Doctor Watson, Just to let him know he was going to be kept safe, and that he was going to be discreetly tailed. He wasn't expecting a reply.

((((((((((((((((((((((((

Lestrade had been dozing on the sofa in front of the TV, the remnants of a reheated takeaway on the coffee table, he had deemed it un-edible after the third forkful and had decided that he would have to survive on beer until he could go shopping.

Dozing until a brunette had opened his front door (which he was sure he had locked he hastened to add mentaly)

"Can I help you?"

"Your presence is needed"

"Thats nice for you" he replied because damn it he would not go running after Mycroft each time the elder Holmes clicked his fingers, (Or his P.A clicked hers.) "Or rather Mycroft" he finished.

The woman had decided her name today would be Patience, so Patience raised one elegant eyebrow.

"Can't it wait till tomorrow?" Greg asked

Patience shook her head, hair bouncing like an advert for head and shoulders shampoo.

Greg sighed and stood up, collecting his plates and the unfinished can of beer.

"I suppose this is about Sherlock and Doctor Watson?"

Patience shrugged "Possibly"

"Well they are grown men, they should be able to sort this out on their own without Mycroft's help, or mine for that matter"

Patience said nothing just walked out of the DI's house, knowing that he would follow.

And follow her he did.

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Arriving at Mycroft's office and being met with the man himself was slightly intimidating, usually he would stand around outside waiting to be called in or lead in by Patience, Getting walked in by Mycroft was terrifying, he had never felt more like a naughty schoolboy than he did at this moment.

Once closeted in Mycroft's study, on plush leather sofas, facing each other.

"Talk" was Greg's declaration.

So Mycroft talked, he told the DI about his brother as a child, told him when exactly Sherlock had begun to feel again, and to Greg it was almost something fantastical that John Watson, who had never done anything but care had captured the Heart of Sherlock Holmes.

Greg was a little surprised that it hadn't happened sooner as well.

Mostly he was worried for the Doctor's safety.

"You see Greg," they were on first name terms by this point and also both on their second (or Mycroft's third, but who was really counting?) tumblerfuls of whiskey. "My brother thinks a case will stop him from feeling."

Greg nodded "He thinks that he can just paper over the John Watson space inside his hard drive by getting himself a new case."

"Exactly, which is why I asked you here, My brother needs Doctor Watson, he just doesn't realise it yet"

Greg held a hand up "I admire your brother, he's a very clever man, but I will not help you sneak about behind his back for something you deem to be his own good, look what happened last time.

Mycroft remembered all too well Sherlock's last stint in rehab, and his consequent move to Bakers St, when the DI had turned up (with a reminder to stay clean from Mycroft) Sherlock had shouted for a good half an hour that he would not work with him if he sided with Mycroft over anything again.

"You have a valid point, what would you suggest then?"

"you could always talk to John?"

"And risk exposing his whereabouts to Moriarty or his second in command Sebastian Moran? That would Kill Sherlock for sure and I am not stupid enough to risk something like that a second time" Mycroft said swirling the amber liquid in his glass, staring at it as if it would give him the answer he needed.

"If Sherlock knows, or suspects I won't give him a case he'll go elsewhere"

Mycroft nodded "It has been taken care of, tell me How do you feel about Scotland?"

"No" Lestrade responded "I am not getting involved in this, if Sherlock has lost John by his own foolishness then it is down to Sherlock to get John back again."

"He won't, not until he know's Moriarty is no longer an issue"

"Well then we Just have to make it so that Moriarty is not an issue"

"Not possible"

"But you're just as clever as Sherlock,.." Greg thought he saw Mycroft's lips curve into something that almost resembled a smile "… so surely you can do something about Moriarty"

"My brother loves 'the game' that Moriarty provides, he loves being close to catching Moriarty, if we imprison him then what will my brother have? dull as dishwater cases that he can solve in maybe half an hour, I care about my brother and I would rather see him without John Watson than Moriarty."

"Right I see, well to be perfectly blunt I would rather see him happy with John, but you didn't ask me here for my opinion"

"You've understood at last, aren't you quick" Mycroft smirked. "Much quicker than your predecessor at any rate"

"What do you want me to do?"

"As i said how does a trip to Scotland sound?"

"You want me to tell John to come back?"

"On the contrary the further he keeps away the better"

"You want me to Split them up?"

"Come come, its hardly splitting up.." Mycroft spat the words out in disgust "… after all they would have to be together for that." He grimaced.

"But your brother…"

"Needs Moriarty more than he needs John Watson, please Inspector you are a clever man don't lower yourself. collect what you think you will need for your trip and tell no-one about it."

Greg drained his glass in one gulp and stood up.

"it was nice to see you again Mycroft."

"You too Inspector. Have a safe journey" Mycroft said watching Greg walk out into the hall. He closed and locked the door and sent 'Patience' a text to say that he was not to be disturbed.

things were coming together quite nicely, Of course Inspector Lestrade would tell John of what had passed between himself and Mycroft and John would seem obligated to return to 221b and to Sherlock.

Mycroft resumed watching his brother via the cameras that had been installed as soon as Sherlock had chosen the flat for his new home.

"I said I would always sort your problems out little brother, but this is as far as I go, I can do no more." he sad to the mini Sherlock on the screen.

**A/N: there we go, a little chapter, goodness knows what is going on here as the chapter seems to have gone about six different ways, but it works! (I hope) **

**you know what to do press that little button down the bottom and write words of love indifference, joy or hate for this fic in the little review box.**


	14. Chapter 14  John

**Hello, here I am again, well that last chapter was a little bit of a surprise wasn't it?**

**To be honest with you I didn't enjoy the last chapter at all, It took me far too long to write and i felt it was clunky, so I'm glad to be back writing John and Sherlock!**

**All of you who expect a Mystrade one shot… sorry not unless I get enough people to ask me!**

**This chapter is dedicated to the Lovely Operagoose because of all her encouragement via and Twitter.**

**Also sorry for the delays but I am busy packing up my room to move to the uk next month :D**

**shout outs go to:**

**LittlePippin: Glad you like it and I am the same, I must review your latest chapter by the way, the Row! I loved it Btw! but Yes I hope he comes back soon too, I don't like Grumpy!Sherlock much!**

**Arrienete: there is method to Mycroft's madness I can promise you that, all may well be revealed in this chapter, If things work out the way that Mycroft is hoping then… Oops sorry can't tell you, spoilers! read on my dear!**

**My darling Operagoose: again you have helped me no end with this chapter if you hadn't pushed me without eh poke wars then this would still be on my computer unfinished… if it is still on my computer unfinished then whoops, but yeah you're just whole buckets of awesomeness really!**

**VerityBurns: yes the beer got me because at the time I had Just finished a coronita and wondered if we had any more in the house, did you have any bud left? and one or ten won't hurt…. much! **

**Maybe Lestrade will get something better than old take out (if I ever decide to write a one shot for him!) and its just the way I saw her.**

**You didn't realise he was devious yet? oh dear where have you been? and I am too my dear! so onwards you go and you may find out!**

**OryonUK: Ohh did I confuse you a bit there, whoops… no wait GOOD! thats what I was hoping for and it might it might not with the Holmes' no-one really knows.**

**and Greg is adorable isn't he?**

**DarkNexus: don't be punching anyone just yet, you may get the resolution you want in this chapter, or maybe not, who knows.**

**and in some ways yes John does Beat Moriarty in others hmm maybe not.**

******the time lines don't really mirror between John's timeline and Lestrade's just thought I'd let you know******

**So for maybe the penultimate time, commence standing on your heads (but don't do it out the window please?) in anticipation of chapter fourteen.**

***Bows and leaves the stage***

**also Warning T is for Swears in this chapter!**

Chapter 14 John.

Standing at a check out waiting to be served mind miles and miles away, trying not to think, trying so hard not to think about mistletoe or snowmen, or cups of tea, or violins being played at three in the morning, Not to mention the cases was a haggard looking John Watson.

This John Watson in particular was trying hard to forget about the mad life he had shared with Sherlock Holmes.

Edinburgh was its usual self, dull and rainy, but it was ok, his friends house was a five minute walk.

The friend in question said that he could house sit until he got back from his honeymoon, after that he would have to leave.

John had nodded and felt the burn of something that could be called jealousy in the pit of his stomach at hearing his friends happy news.

Why did others get this, and all he ever got was a limp a scar and empty houses.

"That'll be five pounds forty" the cashier droned.

He handed over the money automatically and packed up his purchases, some ham, butter bread, three 'meals for one' toothpaste and shower-gel.

Arriving back at the house he put the kettle on and searched for teabags before turning the radio on, the house sounded too quiet and John wasn't used to that.

because John was used to a flatmate, someone who would talk at him, because that was what Sherlock had done, he had also talked to him, something that John had never really noticed until suddenly no-one talked at all.

but he was John Watson, not a woman, so he was not going to pine away and refuse to eat until Sherlock replied, after all he didn't know for sure if Sherlock was going to reply, He was here for a week, possibly longer so he may as well just go and enjoy himself, treat this like a mini break or a long break depending.

(((((((((((((((((((((

It took Greg a while to clear his cases, despite Mycroft telling him that they would be sorted, it was now a month after John had left London and the Inspector had had no word from Sherlock or the Doctor Watson, so he did something that he thought he would never do, he went to see Sherlock, even though Mycroft had expressly told him not to.

but he did not live in Mycroft's back pocket, and he was only under the government officials orders in a roundabout way. Scotland Yard couldn't afford to loose the only person that would work with Sherlock, He hoped Mycroft was aware of this.

It didn't however stop the elder Holmes sending a warning text as Lestrade arrived at Baker's Street.

)))))))))))))))))))))

John had decided to go Shopping for stuff that he didn't really need but he wanted, he still had Sherlock's card in his wallet, and he thought it was time the plastic card had an outing. So there he was walking down Edinburgh's high-street window shopping in the glorious sunny weather (Which was a nice change from rain!)

He was renting a one bedroom flat on the outskirts of the city, it was a crappy flat full of damp and smelt pretty badly but he didn't spend a lot of time there.

Thinking about it he did need a laptop, he had been spending stupid amounts of time in internet cafe's using their computers and spending about twenty to thirty quid a day, a laptop and a dongle were a must.

He entered the nearest computer shop and picked up the computer that seemed to be the simplest to use. He took the box to the counter and asked about Dongle packages and which was the cheaper.

After that he stopped off at his favourite tea room and had a cup and a slice of cake.

John realised there was nothing he needed to buy, or particularly wanted to buy, but he didn't really want to return to that sorry excuse for a flat. So instead he continued to walk around the city centre, he thought about going got see a film but decided there was nothing on that he really wanted to see.

It was about the time that he was running for the bus that his leg began to seize up and cramp.

suffice to say he missed the bus and tried to quickly find the nearest shop that sold walking sticks.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Lestrade didn't knock, just bounded up the seventeen stairs to 221b, he pushed the door open

"Good, I'm just in time too" Lestrade said watching Sherlock, syringe in hand.

"Mycroft sent you I presume"

"Nope, I sent myself Sherlock, come on what are you doing, drugging yourself up the eyeballs, how is that going to bring John back?"

"It doesn't matter, if John comes back Moriarty will kill him"

"Oh I see so you're willing to accept that are you?"

Sherlock shrugged

"I refuse to talk to you while that needle is poised so how about you put it down"

"Is this some tactic to try and get me not to take the drugs"

"No its a tactic called Greg is really really squeamish when it comes to needles, so put it on the coffee table please" Greg sat opposite Sherlock, with his back to the unlit fire. "If you want to drug yourself up once I'm gone fine."

Sherlock gawped at him, but put the syringe down

"Look about a month ago I had to go see your brother."

"In other words he ordered you to see him and you agreed like the good little lapdog you are"

"Sherlock" Greg warned.

Sherlock waved a hand "Go on" he replied sounding bored.

"No its obvious you care more about getting high than what I have to say, so I'll just go to Scotland on my own"

Greg smiled to himself as he saw Sherlock sit upright on the sofa and roll down his right sleeve, so his curiosity was peaked.

"Scotland"

"Yep, Scotland."

"Right" Sherlock said and began to stand up

"No, you can't come, in fact Mycroft is probably going to have me back in uniform for telling you all this…"

"What?" Sherlock asked and he sounded worried.

"He wanted me to go to Scotland find John and convince him to stay away, that you didn't need him, he said that you needed Moriarty more and that if you had to chose you would choose that sick fuck over John any day, He was wrong right?" Greg asked.

Sherlock smiled, well it was more like a grimace but it was the closest to a smile that he'd come in days. "No Greg, he wasn't, I wish I could lie and say that he was but the truth of it is I do need Moriarty in my life, Moriarty stops me doing things like this" he said picking up the syringe and throwing it carelessly across the room where it embedded itself in a book. "But what I can say, and heavens it's taken me long enough to admit this to myself, is that I need John Watson more than anyone I've ever known."

"More than Moriarty?" Greg asked tentatively

"Sherlock grinned "Oh god yes"

"Right then I'd better get to the train station" Greg said nonchalantly, standing up and walking to the door as he said it

"Yes you had, oh and when you come back I hope you'll have a case or something to keep me occupied"

"You jammy bugger, next time don't leave it so long, I've been going grey!"

"I thought you already were" Sherlock said eyes twinkling

"Oh give over, and while I'm gone how about you give this place a tidy up"

Sherlock shook his head, "Unless you want me to be licking bleached lightbulbs then don't ask again"

"Fine I don't think I want to know do I?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Didn't think so, I'll see you when I get back."

"Maybe" Sherlock replied pulling the syringe out of its resting place and emptying the fluid on one of the plants John had insisted they keep in the flat.

And Mycroft sitting in his office smiled the plan was going well, now if Greg played his part well enough John Watson would be In his brother's bed by the time the week was out.

(((((((((((((((((((((((

The sun of the day was turning to heavy rain while John waited for the bus.

He was now equipped with a sturdy wooden cane, and his leg was easing but that may have been the painkillers he had taken with the iron-bru, both from boots, or a superdrug. it didn't really matter.

with the rain the temperature dropped and John wasn't really kitted out for cold weather.

"What time is the next bus due?" he asked the woman sitting on the bench next to him

"Another hour" she replied with a small smile.

"Oh, right, fine"

She offered her hand "Mary Morstan, and you are?"

"John, John Watson" he replied taking her hand and shaking it.

"Where are you going John, John Watson"

"Umm back to a mouldy flat what about you?"

"Oh, home, you could maybe come back to mine, or not of course"

John smiled and he wished really hard that he could form the words 'that would be lovely' but instead he said "Sorry I'm kind of with someone… ish"

"Ish? you don't sound sure about that, I'm sorry I don't usually hang around at bus stops waiting for single guys and proposition them, its just you looked, I don't know, alone"

John gave her a small smile for heavens sake he had been back in UK for a year and when he had tried to get dates he had failed miserably now, when he didn't want dates or hook ups or anything until he had sorted his head out someone at a bus stop asks him out.

"Just my luck" he muttered to himself.

"Sorry?" Mary asked

"Its not important I think I'll walk"

"But what about you're leg?"

"It's all in my head, I'll just walk it off"

"I'll see you around then?" she asked

Damn thought John she had sounded too hopeful there "Maybe" he replied not turning to look at her.

((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Greg relaxed into his seat for the journey up to Edinburgh, he had asked around and found that Doctor Watson was staying just outside the city in a small flat. He had been given Watson's address care of Mycroft now he just had to talk to the doctor and get him to see sense.

He opened his inbox and flicked through to a text from Mycroft, he pressed the reply button.

_Next time you play bloody Cupid not me! GL_

He sent it knowing full well that he wouldn't get a reply.

Closing his eyes he decided he could afford to catch up on some sleep.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((

"… and then He just kind of nodded and walked off" John replied laughing

Mary smiled back at him "Does he do that often, walk off and leave you at crime scenes?"

"Not as often any more, more wine?"

She shook her head.

after their first meeting at the bus stop they had met each other there quite by coincidence a following three times so John had invited Mary to dinner.

after Spaghetti and tomato sauce and various glasses of wine the pair were getting along quite well for people who met occasionally at a bus stop.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Sherlock paced the flat, Syringe forgotten, maybe Greg was right, maybe he should have a bit of a tidy up.

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Greg took the stairs two at a time, he was in the right tenement block and the landlord had told him that Doctor Watson was on the fifth floor.

Arriving at the door marked 52 (John's door) he heard a woman's laughter and Johns answering laugh.

"Crap" he muttered to himself.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

John was sitting rather close to Mary, but it was alright because she didn't seem to mind, his mind may have been slightly clouded by the wine, but they were on their second bottle, Mary was speaking and to be fair John had been listening but now was just staring at her mouth move, it was a nice mouth, as mouths go, not that he was an expert, her top lip had a cute little cupids bow that looked really delectable and h was sure that if he leaned over just a bit he could always pass it off as something else…

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Lestrade didn't waste time in knocking just burst through the door, after all this was Sherlock's sanity on the line here.

He took in the sight, John sprawled on the sofa leaning close to a slim red-head and it looked like, no….

"There you are mate, I've been looking for you for weeks!"

**A/N: well I think you guys are going to get another two or three chapters out of this fic! and then, well who knows, those of you that follow me on twitter kind of know what I have planned, So did we like? (Do please stop standing on your head now, the fic's over and I you've gone red!…. thank you!) I tried to tell Sherlock he wasn't needed and look what happened!**

**Anyway review please, the button implores you, and plus its easier than pay-pal!**

**merci beaucoup! **

**Fae xx**


	15. Chapter 15, Resolve and Resolution

***Waves* Hello there, so your sitting waiting for the next instalment well here it is.**

**Sorry for the cliff hanger in the previous chapter!**

**Officially on writing this I have four weeks left in Spain seeing as today is singles awareness day (or valentines day for those of you who aren't singlely challenged like me) but even though half of my things aren't anywhere near sorted i am going to try and finish this first ok? **

**Good now thats sorted here are the shout outs….**

**Operagoose: you're not happy, no neither am I dear!**

**Night Rider 95: Ha confused? me too!**

**TashaHolmesX: Not me My dear the characters, if I was really the writer then this would have been an M rated one shot!**

**LuffyMarra: Why thank you, I'm glad you're liking it!**

**Verity: I hope I can fix it too, and you not evil, really your not!**

**And commence standing on your heads guys!**

**Here is Chapter 15….**

***Bows and leaves the stage***

Chapter 15: Resolve and Resolution

"There you are mate" was the only thing that registered in John's mind, he recognised that voice.

"Greg!" he half choked out.

"This is the person you're ish in a relationship with?" asked Mary.

Greg shook his head "No not me someone so much better… I think maybe you should go, John and I need to talk."

"She doesn't have to go Greg, maybe you should."

"Yeah maybe I should, and while I'm at it I should ring up Sherlock and tell him not to bother emptying the house of drugs, because I've seen what an ungrateful man John Watson is and realised that Mycroft was right"

John looked angry well good, so he should be Greg thought.

"I'm sorry Mary, I should hear what Greg has to say"

"This Sherlock is this the person that your 'ish' with?"

"Yeah" John replied quietly

"Well I hope he realises what good friends he has" she replied picking up her bag and coat on the way out.

"Would you like some tea now you've ruined my evening?"

"I'd love some" Greg replied with a grin.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

"What are you doing Sherlock?"

"Cleaning Mycroft, where one gets out a duster and a spray can of polish, and makes an effort to render a dwelling hygienic"

"Yes I understand that but why?"

"John's coming home" Sherlock replied with a small grin on his face

"So I hear"

"You tried to sabotage it all didn't you"

Mycroft sighed and sat down wondering when his brother would get out of his petulant stage.

"Not sabotage exactly Sherlock…"

"Then what would you call it?"

"Risk assessment"

"Risk assessment that is a load of shit and you know it Mycroft"

"There is no need to swear Sherlock."

"Yes there Is Mycroft, I'm old enough to make my own mistakes, you can't protect me forever." Sherlock began to pace "When I was seven you told me not to climb the tree in the garden because father said that it was about to fall, I didn't listen and the branch holding me broke under my weight…"

"It was rotten anyway it would have broken sooner or later"

"No, stop shifting the blame Mycroft and listen"

"I got a few scrapes to my knees and a dislocated shoulder and you protected me from getting told off because you told Mummy you weren't watching me. She told me Mycroft, you can't do that any more"

"It.."

Sherlock shook his head "No. its your job to care about me yes, but not make choices for me, all this time we've been at each others throats because you've been talking at me, telling me what's best for me and not listening to me, for once in your life try it…"

Mycroft looked shocked and stood up

"I should leave you to your cleaning Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded. "Just think about it" he said, but Mycroft was already at the front door.

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

"…He was about to…"

"Yeah" Greg replied nodding.

"He did it on purpose, to guilt trip me, he must have known that you were coming round."

"I didn't tell him until after he put the syringe down, then he was all ears, even went as far as watering the pot plant with waterer drug he was going to inject."

"Oh well another plan for the bin, at least I know what's happening to them now"

Greg smiled "You should come back"

"Yeah I should, and while I'm at it I'll get Sherlock to paint a target on my back and text Moriarty to let him know I'm back in town."

"He's willing to… Oh hell I am not playing matchmaker for the two of you but, he told me that he needed you more than Moriarty."

"Right well I suppose you expect me to go home and then everything will be sorted."

Greg sighed "No, not at all, I do expect you to go home, he's cleaning, well he was thinking about cleaning when I left him."

"Oh god, now I'm worried." John replied smiling and taking a sip of his tea.

"This place has damp"

"Yeah its not permanent or anything, its just a rental"

"You of all people should realise how bad that is for your health, and I don't have to be Sherlock bloody Holmes to see your limp is back."

"Rubbish" John tried to protest.

"John mate I saw the cane! You need to go back home."

John opened his mouth

"Don't even start dithering, just get packed up and we'll go"

"But we'll need…"

"I booked a twin cabin on the caledonian sleeper."

"Oh…"

"And if you don't hurry up we'll miss it."

John gulped at his tea, before putting the mug down and going to his room to pack.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Sherlock had finished the cleaning about a half an hour ago and he didn't look too happy with the results.

it was early evening and the flat looked bare, the bookcase was tidied into books by alphabetical order and size, the kitchen was clean and the kitchen table had been scrubbed to within an inch of its wooden life.

but the flat didn't look the same.

It looked Empty.

Sherlock spied John's coat hanging up by the door so he grabbed it and threw it over the back of the Doctor's chair, the way the man himself often did when he knew he would be going out again.

He went to lie on the sofa, keeping an eye on the chair and the coat, things felt like home now, all thanks to the addition of a coat.

He closed his eyes just for a few moments and before he knew it he was asleep.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

John couldn't sleep.

The rocking of the train should have been able to lull him into the arms of Morpheus but on this particular occasion John had too much on his mind to sleep.

Could he really have left Sherlock for good?

if the weeks of lethargy and sleeping was anything to go by then no he could't, not if he had to deal with his bloody limp,

But what, would he go back to being flatmates with Sherlock, or something more?

Was he even sure of what that something more entailed, well of course he knew, he was a doctor, but mentaly and emotionally was he ready for this? and Was it fair on Sherlock.

"John will you either go to sleep or go out I can't handle you keep moving around above me there, it makes me nervous"

"Are you saying I'm fat Greg?"

"Not at all, Just that your driving me to distraction, just go for a walk or something.

"Its a train Greg I'm hardly likely to go down to the nearest tesco's"

"I don't care where you go but i don't want you in this compartment at the moment you're like a fart in a colander, and some of us are trying to sleep"

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Waking up was never one of Sherlocks favourite activities, in fact there were only a handful of times when it had been enjoyable and of those handful of times each had been in John's presence.

he cracked his eyes awake and hated that for a few seconds the daylight made everything blurry.

"Tea?" a whispered voice asked.

"Please" He replied.

"you sleep like the dead"

"That is why I try not to sleep often, what time is it?"

"Three in the afternoon."

"Oh" he replied, and then "You're back then"

"Looks like it" John replied with a grin, and Sherlock had never ever seen anything more welcome.

Sherlock stood and stretched, John walked into the living room with a mug of tea and a sandwich, Sherlock wondered if John thought he hadn't been eating.

"you look awful John"

"Thanks"

Sherlock grinned his rare grin, that unfurled something in the vicinity of Johns heart. He put the plate and mugs down and that was when Sherlock pounced.

John was not shocked, something that should have worried him. within seconds of putting his breakfast/lunch down he had arms full of Sherlock Holmes. Something that he really didn't mind.

The man in question was leaving feather light kisses over any part of exposed skin he could find, hands trailing up and down john's back, walking backwards towards the sofa.

John groaned

"Sh… Sh.. Oh hell, Sherlock we have to talk."

Sherlock pouted and John let out a hoarse laugh which turned into a groan as Sherlock began nipping at the exposed length of his neck.

Seeing an opportunity Sherlock surged up and began kissing John in ernest, suckling on his bottom lip and swallowing John's needy sighs, before pulling him on top of him on the sofa.

"Sherlock!" John breathed as soon as the two came up fro air.

"What?" Sherlock asked dazedly

"We have to talk, You know we do"

Sherlock sighed "Really, I mean neither of us were averse to the activities we were participating in seconds ago." he replied rolling his hips into John's to prove his point.

John bit his lip determined not to back down.

"All the evidence suggests I am correct so I don't see why we shouldn't… continue" The last word ghosted over John's ear and he shuddered.

"I promise once we've talked things over we can carry on, if you still want to."

"Oh rest assured I will" Sherlock replied with a predatory grin. But he sat up and began to listen as John talked. He even helped himself to a half of the sandwich.

**Well there we go what do you think?**

**I'm not sure but at least the reviewers with pointy objects and pitchforks will perhaps back off a bit… maybe… please?**

**till next chapter **

**Faexx**


	16. Chapter 16 Home

**Well my friends we have finally come to the end of a long road together, **

**this is the last chapter.**

**We have laughed, cried, tried to murder the authoress, and generally enjoyed ourselves along this road but here is where it forks, you go to the left there and I go to the right.**

**I have three weeks left in Spain and as promised this story is finished.**

**So before you take that lefthand path why don't you stay here a while, and stand on your heads or on one leg or on two if you really must (abominations all of you who stand on two legs… really whats the world coming to…)**

**first of all before we get to the fic there are a few Shout outs to be made for the very last time so here they are:**

**Verity: you're not going to like me anymore my dear, not after this chapter!**

**Tabbie: Here is the last chapter and I will be reviewing yours just as soon as I have a moment**

**Doctorcoffeegirl: you ain't seen nothing yet my dear! hope you enjoy!**

**And my darling OG: this really is the last chapter I promise, thank you for making me write this fic and for all the help you have given me over the past months this chapter is for you!**

**and to al of you who have added this story to favourites or me to your author alert list thank you, so you didn't review, maybe you couldn't think of anything to say and that is fine really the fact that you read it and liked it enough to put it on alerts is as good as a review.**

**Now on you go, stand on your heads while I get a tissue to wipe my streaming eyes.**

***Bows for the last time and leaves the stage***

Chapter fifteen: Home.

John sighed, It was mornings like this he loved, it was a quarter past ten on a thursday morning and he had deemed that neither of them were getting out of bed till mid-day, which seemed to suit Sherlock as he was currently sprawled out under the duvet sleeping like the dead, one arm flung casually over John's hips.

For his part, John was propped up trying to catch up on some reading. Trying being the apt word as he kept getting distracted and running a hand through Sherlock's hair ensuing that he read the same paragraph three times over.

He let out a contented sigh and made himself that bit more comfortable and continued to read.

"You've read that chapter twice now, is it particularly difficult subject matter?" asked a mop of tousled hair.

"Oh shh, I'm enjoying the book" John said with a small affectionate smile.

"Apparently so, is that chapter particularly riveting, if so do tell me when you finish the book and I'll read it myself"

John rolled his eyes "You've only just woken up its not fair that your so judgemental"

Sherlock smirked "of course it's terrible of me, I'm such a monster" and goodness but he knew what he was doing to John Watson with that voice, he was turning our poor army medic to jelly.

John shuddered, and then remembered that he had no clinic to go to and Sherlock had no case, this time it was his turn to wear that smirk.

(((((((((((((((((((((((

People said that John Watson was mad to go back and live with Sherlock Holmes after he had managed to escape with his sanity intact.

Greg Lestrade shook his head when he listened to those people, they were idiots who knew nothing about Sherlock and John. Everyone he overheard assumed that Sherlock was the one who needed John.

It was as much that as it was the reverse.

He had seen John, living in a dank rotting flat with cheap furniture and sporting a limp, and at first wondered how long John could carry on that way.

The John he had seen a few weeks ago was totally different, no limp, eyes sparkling (although that could have been the whiskey chasers that he had insisted the doctor drink to celebrate his return to the mad house) and he had been laughing, it had been an honest to god belly laugh, infectious as hell so that by the time it had vanished both Sherlock and Greg had taken it up unsure of what they were laughing about, they hadn't cared each making something up in their own heads that was making them laugh harder.

At one point Greg near choked on his beer and at another Sherlock slipped bonelessly off his barstool and had to be propped up by John but that was fine because they had just all started laughing again.

To say that when the night was over they were all just the slightest bit sloshed was the biggest understatement of all possible understatements that had ever been made.

Waking up to a text from Mycroft the day after had not made his morning all that great.

_your nearest Costa, ten minutes time. MH_

Greg had had to read it three times before he could understand what the 6 words said.

He was never drinking with John and Sherlock again.

His first thought as he pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt was 'shit' it escalated to 'I'm a dead man' and then to; 'maybe it would be a good idea to leave a note or something' he realised that his thoughts were getting a little hysterical and tried to calm them somehow. He went to the bathroom and performed his usual routine and realised that his nearest Costa's was a five minute walk away and he had three minutes left.

His inner voice began to panic.

'we are soo dead' was its mantra.

Suddenly the idea of leaving a note was seeming like a good plan

(((((((((((((((((((((((((

Sherlock watched from the sofa as John cooked pancakes and wondered how he had been soo lucky. When he was first introduced to John he could never have imagined that this would be where they ended up.

To be fair even keeping him for this long astounded Sherlock, most flatmates that he had acquired in the past had left after a short tenancy and had not provided a forwarding address.

And then there was John Watson.

John Watson who could have chosen anywhere to reside in London, anywhere at all, and here he was residing in Sherlock's flat, their flat.

"Wonderful" he uttered

"Sorry what, didn't catch that, not a case? not today please…" John said, half tuned from where he was tending the pancakes

"Not at all" Sherlock replied jumping off the sofa and bounding into the kitchen, resting his chin on John's good shoulder.

"Good, because then these pancakes would go to waste and I'd hate for that to happen."

"Oh now don't start getting all domestic on me John" Sherlock said

"Says the man who is spooning me while we are outside of the bedroom."

"I'm not, I just think that you are the perfect hight for me to rest my chin on your shoulder, its an experiment"

"Of course it is whatever was I thinking!" John said resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Johns heart almost melted when he felt rather than heard Sherlock's chuckle, it vibrated through the shorter man and John just knew that this had always been going to happen, it was just a matter of timing and leverage.

After he had returned from Scotland and gotten involved in a heavy make out session he had insisted they talk.

It hadn't been easy, as John was used to dealing with emotions not talking about them, Sherlock knew what emotions were, oh yes he was not dense in that area but as to the ones that were running around in his head, well they could have been little martians speaking ancient greek for all he knew of them.

So 'the talk' (yes with little air quotation marks and possibly also in bold italics) was a long one, with a bit of shouting, some tears and a few accusations, it lasted well into the early hours of the next morning, by which time all the pair wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep which is precisely what they did, they fell fully clothed into John's bed and slept until late in the afternoon.

((((((((

_Sherlock had awoken first, at the unfamiliar sensation of a body wrapping round his, his first reaction was to struggle then he was a little more sensible and turned his head to the side, to see John, in his sleep burrowing his nose into the patch of skin on view thanks to two of the top buttons on his shirt having come undone while they slept._

_His thoughts strayed from struggling and running and began to drift, in a pleasant haze that he would normally attribute to drugs, had John given him drugs? but that was a stupid idea and so Sherlock had relaxed into the sensation, just enjoying the warm body pressed up against his side. He once again let his thoughts drift, revelling in the fact that his thoughts weren't shouting at him, rather they were humming in contentment and before long he found his eyelids drooping._

_When John awoke his head ached and his eyes felt gummy, and for one awful moment he thought he was still in Scotland, but then he realised that if he was still in scotland he wouldn't be wrapped in the scent that could only be called 'Sherlock.'_

_He didn't want to look, yes he would admit to being a coward in that moment, but if he was going to wake up from a all to realistic dream to fin himself in that horrible flat in Edinburgh then he would most likely top himself. That or book himself into the nearest loony bin possible._

_he had taken a big whiff of that scent and scrunched his eyes closed willing himself back to sleep. Unfortunately his mind decided it was very much wide awake and wanted to analyse the 'Sherlock' scent for all it was worth just in case this was a dream, so that when he finally did get back to Sherlock he knew what the man in question smelt like._

_If a mind could do a somersault Johns mind would have been doing so, this 'Sherlock' scent was soo complex, it was like all of John's favourite scents yet at the same time none of them at all, it was strange, because the none at all were scents like chlorine and maybe TCP, burnt earth, and geraniums. and John had never thought he could like those scents but apparently he did. quite a lot his brain informed him._

_Sherlock, or rather "dream Sherlock' (yes his brain was working oddly, but to be fair the poor doctor has been living in a nightmare for weeks, he's allowed a moment or two of confusion!) Stirred in his sleep and John took a moment to appreciate the texture of his skin, not marble despite what John had thought when they first met, supple and warm._

_He found out his nose was currently residing in a hollow in 'Dream Sherlock's' neck, He'd asked it politely to move itself but the Nose had just refused to budge. he wondered if he could get a nose willing to listen to him down at Barts when he got back to London, after all,how evil could a mans own nose be, conspiring with a figment of said man's imagination just wasn't on!_

_Sherlock woke a second time to John trying not to squirm, which was really nice of him considering how often Sherlock slept, but really he needn't have bothered, He was back he could do the 'can can' on the bed for all Sherlock cared._

_He opened his eyes and noticed that John was not where he had been when He (Sherlock that is) fell asleep. _

_"John? Are you awake?"_

_John mumbled something and slowly opened his eyes, turning to look at his bedfellow._

_Sherlock thought that his heart had imploded in that second that John's gaze fell on him._

_"Not dreaming" John mumbled halfway between sleep and awake._

_"No" Sherlock replied softly and kissed him soundly, until both of them inwardly cursed their need to breathe._

_"Oh" was the first thing John seemed capable of saying. then he looked puzzled._

_"What? What is it?" Sherlock asked worried._

_"We talked right before we…" he gestured between the two of them._

_Sherlock laughed, really laughed and nodded._

_"Oh well thats alright then" John replied with a grin, before deciding that Sherlock's laugh was a tonic to him and setting about taking it away the most effective way possible, with lips and tongue._

_After all it seemed the best thing to do and Sherlock offered no objections._

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Greg arrived at the Costa's with thirty seconds to spare, it didn't surprise him to see Mycroft sitting patiently at one of the fake wooden tables sipping from a polystyrene cup, Mycroft looked odd sipping out something that was not fine china. Greg wanted to rectify that.

"Ahh good, I wondered if you would even come here"

"I figured a public place, makes it more difficult for you to off me"

"You thought about leaving a note, to inform epode who you were with and where you had gone."

"How did you…" Greg asked.

"You're an officer of the law Gregory, you're not that stupid"

"Really?"

"Contrary to public belief I am happy for my brother, what would you like to drink?"

Greg wondered if this was all a dream. Mycroft asking him things that would surely be common knowledge had something to do with his waking life.

"Tea, coffee?" Mycroft sounded hesitant, it was for this reason Greg said

"Coffee please" and sat in the seat opposite Mycroft. He half expected Mycroft to click his fingers and have an aide at his side but he didn't, instead queuing along with the rest of the people who wanted their caffeine fix.

Greg was wondering now if this was a dream if it was then he couldn't take his eyes away from the anomaly that was Mycroft Holmes.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Sherlock was currently sprawled on the sofa, feet on a one John Watson's lap, stealing bits of pancake from his lovers plate (lets face it we've all done it) and hoping John wouldn't notice.

John had in-fact noticed but decided not to say anything about it, Sherlock was far too skinny, skinnier than when John had left.

He had been stupid leaving like that, stupid for listening to Sherlock and believing the lies he had spouted in the hospital.

"John your being too loud" Sherlock said before trying to sneak another bit of pancake.

"I am not"

"Yes you are" Sherlock replied popping the stolen piece of pancake in his mouth under the pretence of stifling a yawn.

"I haven't said a thing" John said indignantly

"You're thinking"

"Yes us lesser humans tend to do that from time to time, do try not to be upset over it."

"Well don't think about whatever it is, it doesn't look good"

"That's why I'm thinking about it" John replied smiling

"But if its not good then why would you want to think about it?"

"Because it could help in the future"

Sherlock looked confused before he said

"You were thinking about what I said at the hospital weren't you?"

John nodded

"I didn't mean it, I really didn't I just, I wanted to keep you safe John, I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you"

John smiled and lent over to brush the lightest of kisses to the worry-lines on Sherlock's forehead.

"I understand, I do but you can't make that decision for me Sherlock, its my life as well and if you can control that about me then who know's what else you'll control."

Sherlock wasn't sure what he could say to that so he kept quiet and stole another piece of John's pancake, the man wasn't eating it and he was always soo regimental about eating times and the suchlike.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine" John replied patting Sherlock's shins

"If you're not then we could…"

"It's, its going to take time, you're married to your work and i've never really been the type to take anyone away from their one true love or any nonsense like that this is all so different, good different but different."

"Whoever told you that work was my one true love was sadly misinformed John" Sherlock replied. "And anyway no-one said I couldn't divorce… If you're amiable"

Damn the man, John thought as his plate was taken away from him and a lanky detective began to explore once again the skin of John's throat.

((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Greg had relaxed a fair bit whilst he had been sitting here sipping coffee with Mycroft Holmes.

"Once again Gregory I would like to thank you, you seem to know what is best for my brother while I seem to know what I think is best for him" He offered a small grimace.

"Its not difficult, and please dear god don't tell me you asked me here to talk about your feelings toward your brother."

"Well what would you rather we talk about?"

"What would I rather we.." Greg let out a strangled groan "The football, the rugby, anything, I have to deal with your brother at work, you ask me to keep an eye on him I do that. And more than ninety percent of the time we spend in each others company we talk about your brother, just once I would like to talk about something else."

"I see"

Greg shook his head

"The truth is I don't really know what would be acceptable to talk about when when know so little about each other." Mycroft said, sipping his tea

"Well say we were friends of friends who met in a coffee shop like this…"

Mycroft shook his head.

"Alright then we're old school friends…" he pretended to ignore the snort of laughter that came from the other side of the table. "… Meeting up to chat about our lives since school"

Mycroft sighed. "Alright then." he said "How are you I haven't seen you for an absolute age."

Greg recognised sarcasm when it was presented to him and so replied with "Great thanks I've just come from your brother's flat, I tried to say hello but, what can I say they were at it like bunnies there so I came here to meet with you"

He revelled in the shocked look on Mycroft's face, before he regained his composure and the moment was lost.

Mycroft plastered a grin to his face and said in a cheery voice "Yes he's in a relationship with a Doctor Watson, now Gregory, how are you getting on, still enjoying single life?"

Greg sent him an evil glare before saying I'll tell you if I am or not if you tell me if you are"

Mycroft spluttered into his cup and Greg chalked it up as a point for him.

"Infantile" Mycroft replied

Greg smirked and sipped his coffee.

"Were they really?" Mycroft asked

"Don't be bloody stupid how do I know what they're up to"

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

John had decided that they needed some shopping so after their brunch, that took a lot longer than expected and left Sherlock wearing a smirk to rival the Cheshire cat, John had said 'Shopping' to which Sherlock had just grunted and waved a hand.

"You're coming too" John replied

Sherlock shook his head "Its boring."

"I don't care you need to get out of here and have some fresh air"

"Pointless…"

"As your doctor I insist…."

Sherlock grinned "Are you going to make it up to me when we return home?"

"Possibly" John replied, he had never seen Sherlock get his coat so fast.

They left Baker street laughing, talking about some boring police show that John hated and Sherlock loved because it was so predictable.

They rounded a corner and saw a group of children playing in a small ally, one of the boys ran up to the two of them and waved before saying

"Doctor Foster went to Gloucester in a shower of rain, he stepped in a puddle, right up to his middle, and never was seen again." the boy grinned at Sherlock and ran back to play with his friends.

Sherlock's blood ran cold. this wasn't happening, this was just a coincidence It had to be. John was in front of him now walking towards the Tesco Metro with a determined stride, oblivious to Sherlock's panic.

Sherlock began to lengthen his strides to catch up with John, when he saw three red laser sights on John's back.

((((((((((((((((((((((((

Greg was just about to leave, having thanked Mycroft for the coffee's (he'd had two and a flapjack) and was putting on his jacket when Mycroft grabbed his wrist. He was holding his mobile and had gone white.

"What is it?" Greg asked. He sat Mycroft down and prised his fingers away from the mobile, reading the text at the same time.

It was from Sherlock it held three words

JOHN. PLEASE HELP

Greg felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He rushed to the thankfully empty counter and ordered a take away tea, heaping it with sugar when it arrived, he bundled mycroft into his jacket, shoved the tea into his hands and went outside to flag down a taxi.

Trying to get Mycroft into the taxi was easier said than done, but he managed it in the end, Mycroft was sipping from his cup on autopilot.

"St Bartholomew's please" Greg asked the cabbie

"I did this"

"No. God no, this wasn't you, this was Moriarty, it has to have been"

"I should have… I shouldn't have… I should have left well enough alone Greg"

"He's not dead, don't talk like that, we're going to get to the hospital and find that they've discharged him already and Sherlock will be laughing his head off"

))))))))))))))))))

Sherlock paced the floor outside A&E they had taken John to Surgery about a half an hour back, and there was no sign of Mycroft.

His brother had warned him, and he had not listened. He strode out of the hospital, vision turning red there was only one thing he needed to do now, find Moriarty and destroy him.

**A/N: so there we have it, i could wax poetical in this chapter I really could, but this is the end, well this is where we will leave them for now, the story will continue, and this will be resolved but not in this story!**

**Once again a million thank you's to all of you who have reviewed and have read this.**

**stay tuned for the sequel **

***Bows and leaves the stage***


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